Only by Moonlight
by CassandraLowery
Summary: Due to some serious roommate problems, Bella Swan has to find new student housing mid-semester and fortunately finds a room to rent in a lovely Victorian home near the University of Chicago campus. But a set of mysterious circumstances set Bella on edge, challenging her beliefs about the afterlife...and love.
1. Prologue

_**Only by Moonlight**_

Special thanks to my amazing pre-reader, ladylibre, who has offered superb advice as I settle this story in my imagination. She also helped me come up with the title—she's simply amazing…as are her Twilight stories _Serenity's Prayer _and_ Black Ice. _Don't miss them! :)

_Only by Moonlight_ is a work of Twilight fan fiction. All Twilight characters are the intellectual property of Stephenie Meyer, and no copyright infringement is intended in the writing of this novel.

**Prologue **

**Chicago, 1918**

He woke with a start, his vision blurry. He blinked hard once, twice, before he could see somewhat clearly, but everything remained fuzzy around the edges.

"Edward?" His mother's familiar voice was hoarse as she sat on his bed. "Here, drink some broth."

He felt a spoon at his lips and automatically drank the broth. But swallowing hurt his parched throat and exhausted him. He felt as spent as though he had just run the 440 at full sprint rather than merely drinking a spoonful of broth.

"No more," he croaked, sinking back into the hot pillows. His mother's hand should have been cool against his forehead, but it wasn't. But he barely noticed as she bent away from him, coughing violently into a handkerchief.

_Something wasn't right_, he thought wearily, but nothing seemed to make sense any more, and he let his eyes close.

Sleep bore him away for a time…he didn't know how long. Strange visions due to delirium marred his sleep, preventing him from resting easily. The fever sapped his strength, and his chest ached with heaviness. The mere act of breathing required concerted effort.

A coughing spasm awoke him; he was lying on his side, his mother holding a handkerchief to his lips. He didn't notice the blood mixed with the sputum he coughed into the white cloth, but he heard his mother's dismayed moan.

A vague concern forced his eyes open, and for a moment, his vision was perfectly clear. "Mother?" he rasped.

"Yes, dear, I'm here," she whispered, trying to smile at him but failing. He noticed that she did not look well; her face was deathly pale and haggard except for two bright spots burning in each cheek. Her eyes were glazed with fever, as he was certain his were as well.

"Rest, Mother. You must rest," he said hoarsely. "Go to bed. I'm fine."

His mother choked a little, and he saw both the tears and the resolve in her eyes. "I've lost your father, but I refuse to lose you, too," she vowed in a low voice not meant for his ears.

But he had heard her devastating words.

"Father is dead?" he asked, bemused, as tears blurred the view of his mother's face.

She took a deep breath, but turned away to cough violently into her handkerchief, folding it to hide the resulting blood so that her son couldn't see how ill she was. She would nurse him through this Spanish Flu, no matter the consequences to her own health. Edward—her loving, compassionate, beautiful Edward—must live, even if she did not.

Her gaze met his, and he read the awful truth in her grief-stricken green eyes.

"Noooo," he moaned, then coughed again, the spasms wracking his thin body. His tall runner's form, already too slim due to a growth spurt over the summer, was emaciated from the fever, and his mother grasped him to her heart, wiping blood from his gray lips as each agonized cough brought up more fluid from his wearying lungs.

"You just get better, Edward," she told him fiercely. "I can bear anything except losing you."

Nodding weakly, he slipping into a heavy slumber from which he never rose, gasping for precious breath in his final moments.

Neighbors found them a few days later. Edward Masen, Senior, lay dead in the large master bed. His wife's body, still fully dressed and wearing an apron, lay slumped against the bed in their son's room, a blood-soaked handkerchief clutched in her hand. In the bed beneath the east window, the beautiful seventeen-year-old boy's green eyes stared unseeing at the ceiling.

_A/N: Thank you for reading the Prologue of my new story, _Only by Moonlight_. This story has been bubbling on the back burner of my imagination for over a year. As usual, I have a vague idea where it's going, but, like you, I look forward to seeing what will happen as the story progresses. _

_It's been two months to the day since I published the Epilogue to _Pinned but Fluttering._ Thanks for your patience as I worked like a madwoman through January and February, pulling several all-nighters in order to finish grading essays for various courses I've taught. My schedule is a bit more relaxed until May, but is still busy—just not insanely busy. I missed writing for you all, so it feels wonderful to be back! _

_My plan is to post on Sunday evenings (California time), and Chapter One will be up this weekend for you. I hope that you enjoy _Only by Moonlight. _I'm really looking forward to writing it for you! _

_xxxooo,_

_Cassandra :)_


	2. Chapter 1

**_NOTE: I went back and rewrote this chapter in first person. The third person POV was just too stilted, and I felt too much distance between myself and the characters. So this is a slight revision with only a few changes besides the pronoun alterations. :)_**

**_With many thanks to my lovely and talented pre-reader, ladylibre, who has already saved me from several embarrassing mistakes in this chapter alone…. :)_**

**_Thanks for being patient with me. As much as I've always posted weekly in the past, my work schedule has doubled starting in January. So perhaps I'll just post as I can and make no promises that I'll have to break. Thanks for understanding the life of a very busy wife, mom of four, homeschooling teacher, and writing instructor for online and co-op high school classes. ;) _**

**_I do not own Twilight, but I do have a lovely husband, four angelic [snort] children, and a sizeable mortgage…. _**

**Chapter 1**

**BPOV**

Sitting in my ancient VW Beetle, I checked the address I had typed into my iPhone. Yes, this was the place. Nervously I tucked a strand of my shoulder-length brown hair behind my ear as I took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly in an attempt to calm my nerves.

A lot was riding on this interview if I wanted to escape from the hell my life had become since my return to Chicago for the fall semester of my junior year of college. I just hoped that the people living in this house wouldn't question me too closely. I would have to tell them something, of course, whether they had heard the rumors or not. The University of Chicago was a big place, but my newly-former roommate, Jessica, was not only popular but also had a big mouth, so who knew how far her lies had spread over the past few weeks?

Sucking in another deep breath, I forced myself to open the car door and approach the house which towered three stories above the tree-lined sidewalk.

The neighborhood was an old one, and I felt immediately at home among the old homes, most of them dating back to the last decades of the nineteenth century. Old things—antiques, dusty books, objects with a history—always attracted my attention, and this neighborhood, and this house in particular, appealed to something deep within me.

In fact, it more than appealed to me—it _called_ to me.

But the fact that I loved the neighborhood and felt unaccountably drawn to this house in particular made me more nervous. I was very conscious of the pressure weighing heavily in my chest. This just _had_ to work out if I wanted to retain my sanity and pursue my studies.

Walking up the sidewalk to the gate, I gazed up at the house with something akin to wonder. Aware that my hands were trembling, I pressed them together to mask their shaking as my eyes combed over the details of the structure before me. A classic Victorian, the house was beautifully maintained, its soft gray paint accented with white trim and touches of deep red, the same color as the front door.

Biting my lip, I clicked open the gate to the waist-high picket fence and slowly walked up the gray flagstones to the charcoal-gray porch which boasted two dark red Adirondack chairs and a white porch swing on the far side where riotous honeysuckle covered a trellis, providing shade for most of the porch.

I loved the place already. I just hoped that everything worked out. Unfortunately I needed somewhere to live immediately, and this house looked as if it were made for me. Tentatively I pressed the doorbell, smiling slightly at the deep, old-fashioned tones that rang out faintly, reminding me of pealing church bells.

The red door was opened by one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen. She was tall, a good five or six inches taller than my respectable five-foot four inches, and her blue eyes were almost lavender. Her soft blonde hair was swept carelessly into a ponytail, and her figure, encased in running clothes, was that of a runway model.

The blonde raised her eyebrows at my obvious gawping, and I forced my exhausted mind to the subject at hand.

"Hi, I'm Bella Swan. I spoke to Alice about the room for rent?" I babbled too quickly.

The blonde's scowl cleared, and she smiled as she stepped back and invited me inside. But her eyes remained cool, and I had the feeling that this woman was reserved—her extraordinary beauty probably demanded it.

"I'm Rosalie, and this is my house—mine and my brother's, I should say."

I smiled, feeling a little more at ease. "It's a beautiful place. How old is it?" I asked.

"It was built in the late 1880's, but my parents had it completely restored a few years ago when Jasper and I moved here for college. It's been in our family for ages—five generations, I think. Someday I want to trace the family history of the place, but I never seem to have the time."

"Are you a student, too?" I asked, curious.

"Yes, University of Chicago. I'll be graduating this year—pre-med—then starting med school next fall. You?"

"Same here—University of Chicago. I'm starting my junior year. English major," I responded a little stiffly.

Rosalie chuckled. "Another of those oh-so-marketable majors," she grinned, and I reluctantly joined in her laughter. Truer words were never spoken.

"Well, at least with English, you can teach or write or edit or something," Rosalie stated. "My twin is a philosophy major—I have absolutely no clue what he's going to do with a degree in what? Thinking?"

"I heard that," came a teasing male voice with a slight drawl, one much more noticeable than Rosalie's. A grinning blond man came down the stairs, and he was nearly as beautiful as his sister—there was no mistaking this person as anyone else but Rosalie's twin brother.

_Was his name Jason? Jackson?_ I wondered frantically. Rosalie had just mentioned his name, darn it….

"Bella, this is my brother, Jasper. Jazz, this is Bella. She spoke with Alice about the room."

"Nice to meet you, Bella," he said, still smiling as he stepped forward to shake my hand. I couldn't help noticing that his good looks which, while not quite as dramatic as his sister's, were still quite head-turning. His blond hair was long, almost to his shoulders, and his eyes were the same blue-lavender as his sister's. He was tall—over six feet—and well-built but slender. Definitely athletic. "I'm Alice's fiancé as well as Rose's brother."

"Hi, Jasper," I replied a little shyly.

Jasper turned to his sister. "Let me get Alice, and we can all talk together."

Rosalie nodded as her brother took the stairs two at a time. I had liked Alice when I spoke to her on the phone, and I really hoped that this place would work out. I sighed at the thought of all that had happened recently as I followed Rosalie over to a sitting area in the large living room.

After answering Rosalie's offer of coffee in the affirmative, I settled on a soft brown leather sofa before an imposing stone fireplace. The walls of the room were a gentle sage green, the furniture either brown leather or cream and green upholstery. The cream-painted crown molding was a lovely touch, creating a formal yet comfortable feeling—but not at all the usual hangout for college kids.

I didn't know much about furniture, but I could tell that the furnishings in this room were a mixture of valuable antiques and expensive pieces; the overall effect was warm and welcoming rather than extravagant.

Just as Rosalie entered the living room with a tray of coffee mugs, I heard the rapid fire of feet rushing down the stairs behind me. I turned to see Jasper accompanied by a tiny sprite of a girl. Her black hair was short and spiky, and her cornflower blue eyes danced with excitement. Despite it being a Saturday morning, I was surprised to see Alice dressed in expensive jeans, knee-high brown leather boots that probably cost more than my car, and a peasant top that was obviously designer-made. She looked more like someone going out for a hot date than a college girl hanging out at home on a Saturday morning.

Rosalie placed the tray on the oak coffee table as the girl whom I assumed was Alice practically pranced to up to me. Standing to greet this beautiful girl, I smiled to myself. If I moved in here, I was definitely going to develop a complex from living among such beautiful people.

"Hi Bella—I'm Alice," chirped the girl. When I smiled and extended a hand, Alice bypassed the gesture and hugged me with surprising strength instead. A little shocked by Alice's easy familiarity, I flinched at first but then relaxed a bit, returning the hug tentatively.

When Alice drew back, she was smiling so widely at me that I couldn't help grinning back. "We're going to be best friends, Bella," Alice said, and there was a serious note underneath Alice's sparkling friendliness. "I just know it."

"Let's all sit," Rosalie said, frowning slightly at Alice's exuberance while Jasper smiled indulgently at his fiancée.

A few moments passed as we added cream and sugar from the tray to our coffee mugs. As we all sank back into the soft leather of the matching sofa and loveseat, a slightly awkward silence fell over the group.

Rosalie took charge, however. "So, Bella, tell us a little about yourself and why you want the room. It's kind of unusual to go looking for a room halfway through the semester," she remarked, her tone noncommittal but her eyes curious.

Gulping down my mouthful of coffee in surprise at Rosalie's direct question, I nearly scorched my esophagus. Placing the mug on a stone coaster on the coffee table, I leaned back into the soft brown leather and glanced at the three sets of blue eyes fixed on me. I blushed slightly at the unaccustomed attention, cleared my throat, and began speaking.

"I'm from a small town called Forks in Washington State, about four hours away from Seattle on the Olympic Peninsula. My dad is the chief of police of Forks, and I've lived there all my life. My—" I paused for a moment, then pushed on with effort—"my mom died of ovarian cancer right after I graduated from high school, so I stayed in Forks with my dad for a couple of years before starting college here at the University of Chicago. I roomed in the dorms my freshman and sophomore years with a girl named Angela, but she got married this summer. So I advertised and found someone who wanted to split the cost of an apartment off campus this year. I ended up moving in with a sophomore named Jessica. And it's not working out." The last sentence was spoken in a flat tone which seemed to intrigue my listeners.

"What happened?" Alice asked, and I noticed the concern in her eyes rather than the blatant curiosity that I had expected—and had seen in Jessica and others to whom I had shared my background.

I took a deep breath before continuing. "Jessica and I are very different. I'm a serious student; she's a partier. I don't mind a party on Friday or Saturday nights on occasion, but Jessica is out almost every night and often brings her friends back to our apartment so they can keep the party going, sometimes until three or four in the morning. I have early classes, so I'm stuck with trying to function with very little sleep. Also," I paused, blushing, "Jessica brings her boyfriend back to her room often, and, um, they're not very quiet when they're…_together_."

My listeners nodded with sympathetic understanding—Alice even gave a dramatic shudder.

"I can't sleep. I can't study. And Jessica is not neat—she leaves a trail of beer bottles and empty takeout containers everywhere she goes. The living room smells like a distillery half the time. And the few times I've tried having friends over for a study session on a weeknight, Jessica and her friends interrupt us, playing loud music and dancing while we're trying to work."

"I can understand why your situation isn't working out," Rosalie said, nodding.

Smiling sadly, I continued. "I was going to wait for the semester break to look for a new place or move back to the dorms when I'd have more time, but…" My voice trembled as I dropped my voice, "something happened…that makes it pretty clear that Jessica wants me out. _Immediately."_

At this point I had to pause to regain my composure, and my listeners must have noted the sadness in my expression and tone of voice. "Right now my stuff is in Angela and Ben's garage, but they only have a one-bedroom and no real room for me." Unfortunately, their sympathetic eyes did not miss the fact that I was shaking as I finished my sad tale despite folding my arms across my chest and curling into myself a little—a defense mechanism that I was all-too-familiar with.

Rosalie raised her eyebrow while Jasper fidgeted, apparently responding to the obvious stress I was exhibiting despite my best efforts to calm myself. Alice left her seat beside Jasper and joined me on the loveseat, taking my hand in an unspoken gesture of support.

Taking a deep breath, I let it out slowly as I tried to sound normal—or as normal as possible. "So when I saw your ad on Craig's List, I thought I'd check it out. And here I am," I shrugged, smiling weakly.

Alice hugged me. "Of course we'd love to have you here, Bella! This is going to be so much fun!" she practically squealed in my ear. "We're going to become best friends—I can just see it!"

However, Rosalie handled the situation more circumspectly. "Bella, it sounds like you'd be a good fit here. Right now three of us live here—myself and Jazz and Alice. Since those two share a room, we have an extra room on the second floor that has been used for storage for as long as we can remember, and when we came back for fall semester, Alice insisted on cleaning it out and renting it. Why don't we take you on the grand tour and then we can talk further?"

They all stood up, and Rosalie led me through the rooms, Alice and Jasper tagging along behind us. The kitchen behind the living room was recently renovated—marble countertops, custom dark cherry cabinets, stainless steel appliances, the walls painted a soft yellow. My fingers itched to start cooking in the amazing kitchen—I had never had even a dishwasher in any of the kitchens in the places I had lived, much less a workplace of this caliber.

The adjoining dining room seemed to be set up more as a study with textbooks, papers, and laptops covering what looked to be an antique cherry dining table that seated eight easily. The cherry sideboard was also stacked with textbooks and sported a printer in the middle of the semi-organized chaos. The matching china cupboard held lovely pieces of cream-colored china against the deep green walls, and a large silver tea service was surrounded by iPod docks, phone chargers, and other techno-gadgets. Several bookcases were stuffed to overflowing with notebooks, texts, and reference books.

A small mudroom off the kitchen led to the backyard which was rather spare in late autumn—the trees were bare, the rose bushes dormant, the flower beds mulched for the winter. But I could tell that it would be lovely in spring and summer, and my heart grew even more attached to this lovely home and its beautiful inhabitants.

Rosalie led me back into the house, Alice and Jasper continuing to trail behind me as we returned to the living room. From this angle, I noticed something that I had missed seeing from where I had been sitting earlier.

"Do any of you play?" I asked, touching a finger to the lovely antique upright piano tucked into the corner of the room.

Rosalie nodded. "Mom made Jasper and me play piano for years. Jazz got out of it when he hit his teens and switched to guitar, but I kept on through high school. But I rarely have time to play with my current schedule."

I nodded, unable to say anything more, but touching the polished wood with a reverent hand. Perhaps sometime, if they didn't mind….

I loved the wood floors mellow with age, the lovely artwork—originals, not prints—hanging on the walls, the sunshine streaming through the old-fashioned pane windows across the well-worn but still beautiful area rugs. This place seemed perfect—a real home after the hell of the living with Jessica these last two months and the dorms before that. And even my home in Forks really hadn't been a true home since Renée's death.

"Let's go upstairs," Rosalie suggested, and I followed, Jasper and Alice on my heels. The stairs were wide with carved oak banisters, the wooden steps covered with a deep red rug down the center. I couldn't miss the voluminous collection of family photos hanging on the cream-colored walls as we ascended. When I looked up as we reached the landing, I sucked in my breath.

An extremely large and finely-detailed stained glass window of a glorious peacock graced the landing area where the stairs turned to proceed to the second floor. The blues and greens of the bird's body and long tail feathers caught the diffused sunlight magnificently. The window, created in the style of Tiffany, was both classic and breathtaking.

"Isn't the window amazing?" whispered Alice, and I could only nod, transfixed by the beauty of it—the way the colors from the window were set off perfectly by the neutral cream walls. Whoever had decorated this house knew what they were doing.

At the top of the stairs, Rosalie pointed out the master bedroom with en suite bathroom that belonged to Jasper and Alice. The yellow and black color scheme was both bright and sophisticated, its unusual combination working well in the large room.

"Alice is majoring in design. She mostly does clothing, but she also dabbles in interior design," Jasper stated in a low voice as I nodded, understanding now why Jasper and Alice were following the tour: they wanted to see my reaction to each aspect of the house. Alice nearly clapped her hands with joy each time my jaw dropped in awe, and Jasper smiled at his fiancée's obvious pleasure.

Rosalie showed her room—a large, airy room painted a deep red with touches of black—as dramatic as she was. "Sometimes my boyfriend Emmett stays the night, but it's not bad, even for two people. I have to use the hall bathroom, though, rather than having an en suite bathroom like Jazz and Alice."

Rosalie approached the only closed door on the floor. "This is the room we're renting," she said as she opened the door.

Like the rest of the house, the floors were oak, old but well-maintained, mellowed by decades of use. The walls were painted a vibrant sky blue, and the white crown molding set off the color beautifully. Two windows, one to the north and one to the east, let a lot of light into the fairly large room—not as large as the others but a good deal larger than the one in my apartment with Jessica.

"We just cleared this room out and repainted—it's been used as storage for as long as Jazz and I can remember," Rosalie explained. "But it's too nice a room to leave empty."

"Plus there's another smaller bathroom here across the hall," she pointed out, and I turned to see a small bathroom with a white tile shower stall, white pedestal sink, and walls a shade or two darker than the blue of the bedroom walls.

Alice danced forward, linking her arm through mine. "It's not en suite, but it's all yours. But if you're dying for a bath, just let me know and you can use Rose's huge clawfoot tub or our whirlpool bathtub." I did not miss that Alice was already speaking as if I were definitely coming to live with them.

It was true—this house and its inhabitants were practically perfect for me. I already loved the blue of the bedroom and bathroom. How odd was it that the obviously new paint job was my favorite color?

I have always adored old houses, except for the old kitchens and bathrooms, and this place had been recently upgraded in both of these important areas.

Then a frightening thought occurred to me, and I swallowed hard, nausea biting at my stomach.

"Um, the ad didn't say how much you're asking for the room," I practically whispered. Wouldn't it be terrible if after all this, the room was out of my modest price range?

Rosalie led us all back downstairs where we resettled in our former seats in the living room, sipping our coffee which was quite cooled by now.

"The cost is $1000 per month—no utilities. And you pitch in evenly on groceries."

My heart sank. My budget was half that. There was no way that I could afford this place. Vainly I tried to suppress the tears coming to my eyes so easily after the drama of recent days, the lack of sleep, and the hard work of moving out of Jessica's apartment so quickly.

My emotions were in freefall-I just had to escape before I burst into tears in front of these kind people. The disappointment hit me like a wrecking ball to my hopes. I already liked Rosalie, Jasper, and Alice; not only had they seemed like serious students but also ones who also knew how to have a good time once in a while. They were funny and quirky—just the kind of people I liked best and felt most comfortable hanging out with despite my shyness.

Trying not to wobble, I stood up. "I'm sorry for wasting your time. I-I should have asked you the price at the beginning so that I wouldn't have intruded…." My voice trailed off as I tried to control my tears. Grabbing my purse, I refused to look any of them in the face; I knew that if I saw one compassionate glance, I would definitely lose it. "Th-thank you for your time. I hope that you find a nice roommate—"

Alice grabbed my arm and pulled me unceremoniously back into my seat. With my purse still on my other arm, I sat down, my eyes fixed on my lap as I tried unsuccessfully to control my tears.

"What can you afford?" Alice asked gently.

"$500 is the most I can do," I whispered thickly; I was sure that they all heard the tears in my voice.

"Tell you what, Bella," Rosalie said briskly. "Our cleaning lady had to quit—her husband just retired, and they're moving to Florida at the end of the month. If you want to do the cleaning and cooking, we can take the other $500 off the rent. What do you think?"

I looked up at Rosalie, wiping at the tears on my cheeks. "I don't mind cleaning at all, and I love cooking. Are you all okay with this arrangement?" I asked, and there was no mistaking the nods and welcoming smiles bestowed on me by my new roommates.

"So, when can I move in?" I asked, grinning despite my misty eyes.

Alice clapped her hands, bouncing with glee while Rosalie and Jasper exchanged pleased smiles.

Alice leaped to her feet. "Well—let's go get your stuff!" she squealed. I joined Alice's jubilant laughter, and all felt right with the world.

**_Thanks for reading! _**

**_I wish I could respond to all of your lovely, lovely comments and reviews, but I simply can't do so and still expect to have time to sleep and perhaps even write, too! But please know that each comment is precious to me and is cherished then saved into a special file that I re-read on days when I can't quite believe that I'm a writer…. ;)_**

**_Until next time, dear friends! _**

**_~Cassandra :)_**

**_xxxooo_**


	3. Chapter 2

_**I don't own **_**Twilight **_**but love messing with Stephenie's characters. **_

**Chapter Two**

"Bella, I think this is the last one—or at least, that's what the pixie says," laughed Emmett, striding down Angela's front steps and adding the large box he was carrying to the stack of similar moving boxes in the bed of Jasper's truck.

Although I had met Emmett only half an hour ago, he was already treating me like a long-lost little sister. An only child, I was enjoying Emmett's teasing; the kindness behind his big brown eyes warmed me as he needled me constantly.

Alice appeared in the doorway of Ben and Angela's house, chatting animatedly with my former roommate. It was a relief that my best friend had immediately taken to my new housemates. Despite being a gentle soul, Angela was very perceptive about people; she immediately knew whom she could trust and whom she couldn't. The fact that Angela was making plans with Alice for all of us to go to the movies together on Friday night warmed my heart and made me feel even more positive about my rather sudden move into the Hales' home.

Plus, the fact that Angela had never liked Jessica and had warned me about moving in with her definitely emphasized the value of my former roommate's insights into people. In spite of how happy I had been last night to find a place to live with some wonderful people, this morning I felt even more at peace with the reality of moving in with Rosalie, Jasper, and Alice.

Despite my happiness at Angela's wedding in July, I had felt rather lonely and left-out since that summer day. As much as I adored Ben, I was missing Angela deeply, plus Jessica's cruelty had driven a further wedge between myself and my fellow students. Even though Angela and I tried to eat lunch together in the student center a couple times a week, I had still felt quite alone lately.

But now, surrounded by bouncy and enthusiastic Alice, calm and wise Jasper, lovely and insightful Rose, and now Emmett the mountainous Teddy bear, I felt truly at home for the first time in a long time, especially as they had all pitched in to help me move my few possessions to the Hales' home only a day after meeting me.

As Alice hugged Angela goodbye and the rest of my new friends made their way to their vehicles, I returned to give Angela and Ben a warm goodbye hug.

"Bella, I feel so much better about you living with Rosalie, Jasper, and Alice," Angela said in a low voice, her brow puckered with concern. "I wasn't sure about how you and Jessica would mesh, and I guess my suspicions were right." Angela's eyes burned with furious indignation for a moment, quite unlike her usual gentle self. "But I know that these new friends will take really good care of you."

"I agree. They're wonderful. And there's just something about the house that draws me in. I think I'll be really happy there," I replied, blinking rapidly to subdue the threat of tears.

Giving my friend a rather watery smile and a fierce hug, and embracing Ben as well, I waved cheerily over my shoulder as I jogged to my beloved but rather decrepit blue VW Beetle, especially when compared to the vehicles by my new housemates. Jasper was behind the wheel of the truck with Alice beside him while Rose waited in the passenger seat of Emmett's black Jeep with the top off on this beautiful autumn morning. Slipping into my car, I started the engine with its accustomed roar and waved once more at Angela and Ben, standing with arms around their waists on the front steps, before I followed Jasper and Emmett back to the lovely home waiting for us all.

By the end of the day, my possessions were unpacked and my room was completely ready…thanks to the whirlwind that was Alice. I tried to keep myself from laughing as the tiny girl ordered the two huge guys around, persuading them sweetly (and sometimes not so sweetly) to make trip after trip up to the attic to fetch pieces of furniture from storage for my room.

Ignoring my objections that Alice was doing too much for me, she also wheedled the guys into painting my one piece of furniture, a tall bookcase, a bright white since, as the pixie informed me, "There isn't time to refinish it, and who wants matchy-matchy furniture, anyway?"

Okay….

It was at this point that I stopped objecting and let Alice have her way in decorating the room. She had also insisted on making several trips to Target to purchase some "finishing touches here and there."

And really, the room couldn't have turned out better if I had hired my own designer…which, in a way, I kind of unofficially had. Alice seemed to know my taste in décor as well as—or perhaps even better than—I did myself.

The lovely sky-blue walls perfectly matched the double wedding ring quilt that my grandmother had sewn for her hope chest while still in her teens; the quilt's pale blue background with white and lavender blocks and triangles forming the double-ring pattern seemed right at home beneath the wide east window which opened over the backyard.

My simple full-sized mattress was supplemented with an antique mahogany sleigh bed frame that Alice had ordered Jasper and Emmett to drag down from the attic, along with a matching dresser and a delightful supplementary armoire as the closet was rather cramped, even for my limited wardrobe. People must not have had many clothes a hundred years ago, I suppose.

Fortunately, the now-white bookcase had dried quickly in the autumn sunshine, and the one activity that Alice allowed me to do was to arrange my many books on the shelves, only occasionally handing me a freshly-framed photo, a curious antique knick-knack, or a small basket to "break up the bookishness."

Alice had even discovered a very old desk in the back corner of the attic. Calling to me from the top of the narrow staircase at the end of the hall into the huge attic to take a look, we decided that the antique oak desk was mellowed by age to dark tones that would go well with the mahogany furnishings. Pulling out her ever-present measuring tape, Alice made sure that the desk would fit under the north window which overlooked a small orchard of fruit trees in the neighbor's back garden.

I adored the writing desk on sight; it would be wonderful for studying with its sheen of age, its delicately carved legs, and its rather compact size, almost as if it had been made for a child or a teen. I wasn't large by any means at 5'5" and 115 pounds, so the desk looked perfectly proportioned for me.

Of course, once I was up in the attic, I was entranced; truly it was a magical place. A few small dormer windows let in a few beams of daylight and, since Alice had opened them this morning, fresh air blew gently into the dusty but neatly-arranged storage area.

"I put most of the stuff that was in your room up here, with Emmett's and Jazz's help," Alice informed me.

A guffaw from the downstairs hall mocked Alice's description. "You mean that you ordered us around for an entire weekend," Emmett corrected, but Alice and I could both hear the teasing tone behind his seeming complaint.

Beneath one narrow dormer window was a faded armchair next to a small wooden table. Immediately this little seating area struck me as a perfect reading nook.

Turning to Alice, I asked eagerly, "May I come up here sometimes to read, Alice?"

She gave me an odd sideways glance before nodding slowly, her brows knitted in concern.

"Are you sure you don't mind?" I pressed her, noticing her reluctance and not wanting to overstep any boundaries on my first day here. "I don't have to come up here. It just seems like a wonderful place to study."

"Well, I guess it will be all right, Bella," Alice replied, her voice tentative…which was quite unlike her usual exuberant self. "Just be sure to close the windows tightly before you go back downstairs."

"Of course! I'll be careful—I promise! Thank you, Alice!" I enthused, hugging her and spinning her around in a circle before setting her down.

"Goodness, you seem more excited about a beat-up old chair up here in the attic than you are about your entire new room," she grumbled, but I could see the teasing smile behind her words.

Quickly I schooled my expression into grateful lines. "Really, Alice, I just love this house so much—my room, the attic, all of it! I can't believe I'm actually living here!" I practically hugged myself with joy…which was not like me. Enthusiasm was not usually one of my character qualities; I was quiet and reserved most of the time. But Alice's obvious enjoyment in pulling my room together along with the discovery of the entrancing attic overwhelmed me. I was jubilant for the first time in years, and I couldn't stop smiling—my cheeks were almost sore with my constant grinning today.

Alice smiled with satisfaction at my reply, but I still caught her occasional puzzled glances for the remainder of the morning.

Despite attempting to protest against Alice's too-generous lending of family heirlooms for my room, I made no such objection when it came to the small writing desk that Alice had dragged me upstairs to see. It was lovely, with one central drawer for paper and pens, and two hinged cubbies atop the desk that flipped back. My laptop would fit exactly between the two cubbies that had probably housed bottles of ink and dip pens for students more than a century before.

Much like the sensation I had experienced about the house and my room, the little desk drew me in as well, and I thanked Alice over and over for sharing so many family furnishings with me.

"Bella, really, it's no problem. They would just gather dust in the attic, and good furniture needs to be used," Alice had replied with a wink.

With the final touches of white blinds and sheer white curtains for the two windows and white eyelet and white-and-lavender striped throw pillows for the bed and the oak rocking chair (another attic find of Alice's), plus a few nice Impressionist art prints framed in white against the sky-blue walls, Alice declared my room officially "perfect" just before dinner.

After all of the work of the day, we quickly agreed to order pizza for dinner. Emmett knocked on Rosalie's door, and she finally emerged from her room after studying all day for bio-chemistry and anatomy mid-terms, her earbuds blocking all the noise we had made while she pored over textbooks and notes.

It was a merry group who gathered around the kitchen table that evening, Emmett and Jasper enjoying a couple of Coronas after a long day of following orders from "the little tyrant" as Emmett affectionately called Alice. We girls decided on Diet Cokes to go along with the three pizzas Rose had ordered; Emmett ate most of one himself, with Jasper not far behind.

After dinner everyone scattered, Rose and Emmett to her room ostensibly to study, while Alice and Jasper headed over to a friend's place to hang out for a bit. I quickly tidied the kitchen then wandered around the house a bit, acquainting myself with the locations of necessary items for future reference.

I found most of the cleaning supplies in the laundry room and was impressed that Alice had already printed up a new laundry schedule which included me in the twice-weekly rotation.

That woman was a whirlwind of organization.

A little restless, I wandered through a pair of French doors that opened from the living room onto the back patio. The night was unusually mild for mid-October; I didn't even need a cardigan for warmth. The brick patio was set up for entertaining with a large grill, a wooden picnic table, and a smaller round table with chairs. Pulling out one of the chairs, I sat down. Looking up into the clear purple skies over Chicago, I sighed.

Nighttime was when I missed Forks the most. On the few clear nights that the small, rainy town on Washington's Olympic peninsula enjoyed, the stars glittered against the thick blackness of the night, some appearing so close that it seemed as though we could practically reach out and touch them.

But I also missed the small town atmosphere of Forks where I knew everyone and everyone knew me. Although living in the fishbowl of a small town was sometimes annoying, mostly it was familiar and comfortable, unlike living in the third largest city in the U.S. Despite the inevitable small-town gossip, most of families in Forks knew and cared for one another. In fact, the outpouring of love when Renee…but I pushed the thought of my mother out of my mind.

Not now.

If I allowed myself to think of my mother, I'd start crying, and I wanted this first night in this house to be a happy one…or at least tear-free.

But one upsetting thought followed another as I considered having to face Jessica and her friends tomorrow. The scandal that I had accidentally embroiled myself in through epic thoughtlessness was just over a week old, and I wasn't sure what Jessica would do now that I no longer roomed with her. The cold shoulders and haughty stares of the last week had built to Jessica screaming at me in the middle of the student commons on Friday at lunch, her tantrum ending with the overly-dramatic demand that I leave our apartment that very day.

I ended up skipping my Friday afternoon classes in order to pack up my things and be gone before Jessica got home from her stint in the campus Starbucks, a task that was only completed in time with the help of Angela and Ben and their kind offer of sleeping on their sofa for as long as I wanted to stay with them.

Whether it was the discomfort of their rather saggy sofa or the emotions of the day, I had slept little Friday night. Despite finding a new place on Saturday, I slept only marginally better last night with plans for my new room and thoughts of my new housemates swirling through my mind.

Yawning widely, I decided to head to bed despite the early hour; I really needed to catch up on my sleep. Checking the downstairs to make sure that all was tidy, I climbed the staircase wearily, pausing to knock on Rosalie's door to ask her about the routine for locking up the house for the night.

"Come in!" came her soft voice.

I opened the door to find Emmett sprawled across Rosalie's bed on his stomach, three huge medical tomes opened in front of him as he typed on his laptop. Rosalie was curled up in the corner of a black leather loveseat against the wall, highlighting another thick medical textbook as she read, tapping her foot in time with the music on her iPod.

"What is it, Bella?" she asked, smiling as she removed her earbuds.

Ruefully I shook my head at both of them as I seated myself on the edge of the bed. "I sure don't envy you pre-med majors and your course load," I stated, gesturing to Emmett's cluttered workplace and the stack of books on the floor beside Rosalie.

"Aw, it's all right," Emmett said, grinning. "At least Rosie and I have most of our classes together. And we both enjoy what we're learning."

"Do you know your specialties yet?" I asked, wondering if their similarities extended to the type of medicine they wished to practice.

"I'm pretty sure that I want to go into sports medicine," Emmett replied quickly, "what with playing on the football team and all. I've always loved sports, and keeping athletes healthy would be too cool."

I couldn't help smiling at his enthusiasm before turning my eyes to Rosalie. "What about you, Rosalie?"

"You may call me Rose, Bella," she corrected gently. "We're roommates, after all."

"Okay," I agreed, nodding. Behind her ice-princess beauty, Rosalie was really a sweetheart; she already felt like a big sister to me although I was technically a year older. There was something about Rose that was loyal and protective; I could tell that she would become a truly excellent doctor.

"I'm not sure yet, but I'm thinking either OB/GYN or oncology," Rose answered, tapping her highlighter against her lips thoughtfully.

The word "oncology" was still a hard one to bear after my mother's death from cancer, and I knew that Rose noticed my wince upon hearing it. Her eyes were warm with sympathy as she smiled at me.

_Okay, this is getting a little awkward despite Rose's kindness…. _

"Well, I think I'll go to bed. Do I need to lock anything up?" I asked, trying to change the subject away from my mother and back to my original reason for disturbing them from their studies.

"I usually lock up the downstairs when I leave, or if I'm not here, Rosie does it," answered Emmett, turning a page of one of the books open in front of him as he continued typing notes into his laptop.

"Great. I'll see you all in the morning," I said with false cheerfulness.

But I could tell from their knowing expressions that I wasn't fooling them in the least; my awkwardness was probably all-too-obvious after Rosalie's unintentional referral to the disease that killed my mother.

They both wished me goodnight quietly, and I escaped to my room, grateful to be alone. I was always surprised by the odd things that brought memories of my mother rushing back to me. I still missed her so much, and thinking about her always brought a stabbing pain to my chest. My dad was so stoic that I hadn't felt comfortable talking to him about my physical reaction to memories of my mother, and I hadn't really had friends close enough to discuss my mom with, except for Angela. But I hadn't liked to burden her with my problems unnecessarily, and she had soon learned to skirt the issue of my parents since I hyperventilated every time Angela mentioned them.

I hated crying in front of other people, probably a quality I had inherited from my dad. In addition to being messy and embarrassing, breaking down in tears over missing my mother felt like a weakness, especially all these years later. Plus, I didn't like to feel vulnerable in front of anyone, even Angela who was one of the most gentle souls I had ever met.

Grabbing my pajamas, I headed across the hallway and took a quick shower, put on my new blue-and-white PJs that Alice had talked me into buying at Target today ("You _have_ to get them, Bella—you'll match your room!"), blew my hair dry, and brushed my teeth. I loved the oval mirror over the pedestal sink—it was hung at the perfect height for me, and the old-fashioned electric sconces gave just the right amount of light.

I could really get used to living in this place.It was just the perfect combination of old-fashioned décor with modern conveniences. 

When I was finished, I felt much lighter in spirit and practically skipped across the hallway, closing my bedroom door behind me. It was the first time I had been in my room all by myself, and such an incredible feeling of warmth and peace washed through me that I knew in my heart that I had made the right decision in moving here.

At last I was in the right place.

Taking my journal from the drawer of the bedside table, I curled up against the throw pillows and two new fluffy feather pillows white cases trimmed with eyelet that I piled against the curved headboard of the sleigh bed, pulled out my favorite pen—a Waterman fountain pen that was a high school graduation gift from my dad—and began to write in the thick leather-bound journal that was my mother's last birthday gift to me.

I hadn't written in the journal for a few months, not since returning to Chicago, so now seemed a good time to catch up with all that had happened since coming back to school. It felt good to vent about Jessica in my journal, almost as if I were talking to someone about it. The more I wrote, the lighter I felt.

And with the welcome sound of my pen scratching across the lined pages, I felt very close to both parents as I used their gifts. Usually when I missed my mother, the pain was acute—slashing agony right through my heart. But tonight the pain wasn't sharp; it was merely an aching heaviness in my chest. Somehow this ache was comforting: an assurance that I would never forget her, and that I would always miss her. But it was a manageable pain now, a pain I could live with for the rest of my life rather than the debilitating grief that stunned me with its sudden stabbing, stealing my breath and twisting my stomach in agony.

Smiling a little, I continued to write in my journal, absorbing the comforting ambience of the room that Alice and the guys had labored over all day. After I had finished describing my housemates and new room, I returned the journal and pen to my bedside drawer and stretched lazily.

Suddenly I felt compelled to write a story…a feeling that had occasionally come over me in the past but not once since before my mother's illness.

Getting up from my comfortable bed, I fetched my laptop from the desk and bounced back onto my quilt, opening a new document and beginning to type.

The story formed seamlessly—which was a new experience for me. Writing used to be a struggle as I reached for just the right word, building each sentence with the same effort used to construct a house of cards, being constantly afraid that one wrong move would result in everything—plot, sub-plots, characters, themes, imagery—disintegrating into nothing.

But composing this story was an absolutely new experience. The words flowed almost as if I was transcribing rather than writing. I didn't delete a single word; I barely had to think as sentence after sentence left my fingers and appeared on my screen.

The strange tale of a beautiful teen boy with auburn hair and piercing green eyes was being nursed by his mother through the Spanish flu was poignant, even tragic. His father had already died from the disease, and his mother was now ill as well yet insisted on caring for him despite her high fever and wracking coughs that brought blood to her pale lips. The few times that the boy was lucid, he kept trying to talk her into resting, but she was adamant in her determination to nurse him back to health, to save his life, no matter the consequences to herself.

I couldn't believe how easily the words came to me, flowing almost faster than I could type, unlike anything that I had ever written before. The scenes played out perfectly in my imagination and were captured effortlessly in phrases that seemed archaic and old-fashioned to my mind.

I must be reading too much Jane Austen.

Yet the too-formal and somewhat dated wording expressed the story more powerfully than I could have dreamed. Paragraph after paragraph flowed with details I was envisioning as strongly as if the scenes were playing out right before my eyes. Somehow I became a witness to the tragedy of this cruel and rampant illness to the point that my chest ached with every breath I took and my throat burned with thirst as the boy's must have.

How in the world was I feeling what he must have felt as he lay there, dying of this horrid disease, drowning in his own fluids as they filled his lungs? But I could only pause in my manic typing long enough to rub at the heavy discomfort in my own chest, my breaths coming quick and shallow almost until my head swam.

As I typed the final words of the sad story, I became aware of tears flowing down my face and a thick knot of emotion in my throat. Stifling a sob, I let my fingers write those final words—_The End_. Then I let the tears flow as freely as the words had throughout the story…because he died. The beautiful boy with his deep and lovely soul shining through delirious emerald eyes died—as did his mother who nursed him to the very end.

Ruefully I wiped the wetness from my cheeks and coughed, trying to dislodge the heavy congestion in my chest. Saving the document, I placed the laptop on the bedside table and, pulling back the crisp white sheets, I burrowed into my bed. A powerful exhaustion overtook me—as if my mind, body, and soul had been taxed to their very limits—and I fell into a deep and profound sleep almost immediately.

The last image in my mind before my exhausted slumber overtook me was a pair of piercing green eyes watching me with a strange intensity.

_**Thanks for your patience in waiting for this chapter. As I've mentioned on Facebook and Wattpad, I've been very ill for the past six weeks. I battled a nasty flu along with a significant increase in pain from my chronic autoimmune illnesses, and I've barely been functioning. **_

_**But after having tests run and a new diagnosis of a metabolic mutation, I'm now receiving special shots (which I get to administer myself…yay). We're hoping that these shots will grant me more energy and reduce my pain levels. **_

_**So thanks for your unwavering support and kind patience in waiting for this second chapter. I hope that I'll be able to keep up with weekly chapters—that's my wish and my goal. **_

_**Thanks for reading and reviewing!**_

_**xxxooo,**_

_**Cassandra :)**_


	4. Chapter 3

_**I don't own Twilight. But I do have three hormonal teenaged boys (all sharing the same bedroom) whom I am willing to lend out for an extended period of time. Let's say…all summer. I'll even pay the air fare! **_

_**Okay, not really. **_

_**YOU may pay the air fare. :P (J/K of course. I love them. I really do. But homeschooling teenage boys make Jessica's drama seem like child's play….)**_

_**Chapter Three **_

I woke up the next morning feeling completely refreshed—which was an utterly new experience for me. I sprang out of bed, turning back to make up my bed and check the time on my ancient alarm clock—the wind-up kind with two silver bells on top of the chrome casing. The analog clock face with Roman numerals read 6:18, twelve whole minutes before I had set it to go off in time for me to get ready for my Monday morning classes.

Wow. I was up early…even before my alarm went off. Usually I reset my alarm two or three times each morning before finally dragging myself out of bed, moaning and groaning…especially on Monday mornings like today.

My hatred of mornings was the stuff of legends, after all. But here I was, wide awake and downright cheerful.

_How weird was that?_

But with a grin, I switched off the alarm, gathered my things, and headed to the bathroom, humming under my breath.

Half an hour later, I clattered down the stairs and into the kitchen to search for something for breakfast. The expensive coffee maker on the counter was percolating at full bore, but while I loved the aroma of coffee, I despised the bitter taste…unless it was well-hidden by whipped cream and caramel syrup in a Frappuccino. Grabbing my copper tea kettle from the stove top, I filled it with water at the tap and set it down to boil. Alice had placed my Brown Betty teapot, which had belonged to my grandmother, in a place of honor on the counter; I readied it, measuring out my usual three level teaspoons of Fortnum & Mason's tea leaves that I saved my pennies to buy from a funky British tea shop not far from campus. Those British ladies in the shop knew me by name, often offering me a decadent Walker's shortbread "biscuit" (as the Brits called cookies).

As the kettle heated, I scavenged the fridge, deciding on a simple breakfast of toast and fruit. Just as the kettle began to whistle, my toast popped up; I added a tiny smear of lemon curd (also from the tea shop) to each of the two slices of toast before carefully filling the teapot with boiling water. By the time I readied my breakfast and peeled a tangerine, the tea had steeped the required three minutes, and, placing the antique strainer over the teacup my mother had given me for my twelfth birthday, I carefully poured the tea, catching the loose leaves in the wire mesh.

Carrying my plate and teacup with saucer to the kitchen table, I seated myself so that I could look out the window while I ate. Just as I took the first bite, I heard footsteps bounding down the stairs. A moment later, Alice and Jasper entered the kitchen, Alice dressed in a gray pencil skirt, matching heels, and a sky-blue blouse and Jasper in a Clash t-shirt under a well-worn leather jacket and artfully-ripped jeans over cowboy boots.

I looked down at my threadbare black cardigan over a nondescript gray t-shirt, and my favorite Target jeans with scuffed black ballet flats and felt quite dowdy beside Alice's designer outfit and Jasper's rock-star vibe.

_So much for my good mood…. _

But Alice seemed to be an expert at dispelling negativity. "Good morning, Bella! How did you sleep?" she chirped as she poured mugs of coffee for herself and Jasper.

I swallowed a bite of toast before slowly replying. "Really well…which is strange. I never sleep much my first night in a new place."

Huh. I hadn't really thought of that before—I _never_ slept well in a strange room. _Never_. It always took me a week of more of adjusting to a different place for me to get restful sleep at night.

I sipped my tea, entranced as always by the delicate perfection of the true British brew, then smiled at Alice. "I guess I was meant to live here with you all," I joked, albeit a little weakly.

Alice gave me an oddly piercing look. "I think you're right," she replied seriously as she joined me at the table while Jasper foraged for something to eat in the fridge.

We chatted amiably for a few moments as I finished my breakfast and Jasper gnawed on a bagel that he didn't bother to toast, Alice rolling her eyes as she sipped her well-sugared coffee.

As I stood up to take my dishes to the sink, Alice grabbed my arm. When I glanced down at her, surprised, she wasn't looking at me as I had expected; instead, her eyes were fixed on the wall…yet were strangely unfocused. "Bella, you need to ride with us this morning," she stated firmly, then her eyes, strangely sad, met mine.

At Alice's tone of voice, Jasper set down his coffee cup abruptly, almost spilling it. He fixed his attention on his girlfriend, his eyebrows puckering into a frown as he enveloped her tiny hand in both of his huge ones.

I laughed uncomfortably before asking, "And why is that?" I asked jokingly, trying (and failing) to dispel the weird tension in the room. As I took my things to the sink, I noticed out of the corner of my eye how tightly she was gripping Jasper's hand.

The fact that he was taking Alice's words so seriously that he felt the need to soothe her freaked me out a little.

"Trust me," was all she said as she looked up at me beseechingly.

My jaw dropped in surprise. _What was Alice? Some kind of visionary or something? _

Yet I couldn't help trusting her, no matter how weird it seemed to do so.

_And what could it hurt, anyway?_

Jasper spoke up at this point, leaning forward with a warm smile for me despite his worried eyes. "One thing you'll soon learn about living with Alice is to never question one of her presentiments. She is rarely mistaken." While his expression was comforting, there was a seriousness behind Jasper's words that was quite convincing.

He believed what he was saying.

I shrugged. "Um…okay. But I have an early class and need to leave in," I checked my wristwatch, "ten minutes."

"We'll be ready," Jasper assured me as he put an arm around Alice's shoulders, hugging her to his side.

As I left the kitchen to gather my school things, I noticed Alice and Jasper speaking together in low whispers, Alice seeming quite upset while Jasper tried to calm her down, holding her tightly.

Ten minutes later I was sliding into the rather cramped back seat of Jasper's truck as Alice, fashionably dressed right down to her designer trenchcoat and apparently cheerful once more, flipped the passenger seat upright and belted herself in. At least the house was fairly close to campus; Jasper pulled into a parking space only fifteen minutes later, Mumford and Sons blaring from his speakers.

We waved our goodbyes and scattered in separate directions in order to attend our classes.

Despite the strangeness of Alice's insistence that I ride with them, the morning went along pretty much as usual. The only exception I noticed was a few girls I recognized as Jessica's friends raising their brows or rolling their eyes as I passed them, probably a direct result of the scene on Friday, but no one said anything directly to me, so I decided to ignore them.

After what happened in the student commons at lunch last Friday, I decided to head to the library during lunch instead to start my research paper on the French symbolist poets for World Lit. I felt a little cowardly in avoiding Jessica and her drama, but I'd rather hide like the proverbial ostrich than face that kind of humiliation again.

Unfortunately, being a coward didn't do me much good.

As I sat in the heavily-occupied reading room of the extensive main campus library, a stack of books on the poetry of Rimbaud, Baudelaire, Mallarme, and Verlaine in front of me as I scribbled notes onto 3x5 cards, the unaccustomed slamming of the double-doors, the only entrance to the silence-only reading room, startled me; I noticed a few other students jump also as the sharp noise reverberated through the long room, interrupting many of the students' concentration.

"There you are—I knew I'd find you here, you sneaky little bitch! Too afraid to face me, aren't you?"

I cringed a little as Jessica's voice, even at a normal speaking tone, echoed throughout the large room as if she were yelling. Students began pulling their earbuds out, most seeming annoyed but some definitely interested as Jessica strode toward me, her four-inch heels clacking loudly against the wooden parquet floor.

"You sniveling, sorry excuse for a friend! I hope you're happy now!" Jessica spat, grabbing the back of my chair and spinning it around to face her.

Stunned into speechlessness, I could only stare at her with huge eyes.

"Don't look so shocked, Isabella Swan! I didn't see through your little-miss-innocent act before, but I sure have now—and I'm not letting you get away with this!"

"Away with w-what? I managed to stammer.

"Mike broke up with me yesterday. I'm sure he went right to you as soon as he left—wherever you're living now. Did you two get an apartment together? Did you? Tell me!" Jessica grabbed the wooden arms of my chair with both hands, leaning over and trapping me as her voice rose with each accusation.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Jess. I haven't seen Mike since Friday night…at the party." I tried to act as if nothing she said bothered me and attempted to scoot my chair back around to face the table where I was working, my face hot with embarrassment as almost every set of eyes in the large room were fixed on the loud soap opera scene playing out.

"Don't you turn your back on me, you sneaky little bitch!" Jessica leaned her weight onto my chair arms to keep me from moving away from her, her face so close to mine that I could feel the spray of her saliva on my cheeks as she yelled at me. "I want answers! I want to know how long you've been seeing Mike behind my back!"

"Will you guys take it outside!" some guy complained from across the room.

"No way—I gotta see this!" objected a girl a few tables down.

Anger filled me at Jessica's ridiculous accusations. I stood up quickly, surprising Jessica enough that she was forced to release the chair arms and take several steps back. Unfortunately, when I get mad, I cry. I hated to appear weak, but Jessica had gone too far, and I was angry as well as embarrassed, a bad combination that brought filled my eyes with traitorous tears.

"You can have Mike! I don't like him and never have! He was so drunk that…that he…it wasn't my fault. It was _his_ fault! So leave me the hell alone!" Blindly I grabbed my things, throwing them haphazardly into my backpack and, leaving the library books on the table, tried to get around Jessica who stood between me and the only exit.

She grabbed my arm, not letting me pass. "I don't believe you! Why would it be Mike's fault? He loves me!"

"Why don't you ask him instead of bothering me about it," I ground through my clenched teeth as I tried to suppress my tears. "I didn't do anything!"

"What is going on in here?" hissed a librarian from the doorway, her hands on her hips in annoyance. "This room is for silent study only. You two are causing an unacceptable disruption. Both of you are to come with me! At once!"

Wildly I yanked my arm out of Jess' grip, her long, manicured fingernails leaving wide, visible tracks down my forearm almost to my wrist. As I stomped past her, Jessica, too angry to remember that we were in a room full of witnesses including a librarian, wrapped her fingers around my arm again, swung my body around to face her, and with her other hand, slapped me across the cheekbone.

_Hard._

The sharp sound echoed hollowly through the long room.

My free hand flew to my face, the shock of the sudden pain causing the tears that had been welling in my eyes to overflow down my face.

Jessica's eyes were huge…as if she were just as surprised by her actions as I was.

We remained frozen in place, the room as silent as if every student were studying diligently rather than watching the dramatic scene unfold, until the librarian strode across the room and grasped Jessica by the upper arm, muttering about "assault" and "pressing charges," motioning to me to follow her.

I stood there, my feet frozen in place for a moment before I realized that the room wasn't moving around me; I was shaking like a proverbial leaf.

The librarian glanced over her shoulder and nodded abruptly toward the door. Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to trail behind them.

The librarian escorted both of us out of the still-shocked reading room and down a long hall to her office where she promptly picked up her phone and made a call, explaining the situation in clipped sentences. I barely paid attention to her words and tried to steady myself in the chair the librarian had indicated for me to sit in.

Two hours later I left the security office, still trembling. I had declined to press charges against Jessica, hoping that a little grace might keep her off my case after all this.

_And I had missed all my afternoon classes—again. _

Turning a corner, I plopped down on a bench under a tree, trying to calm my still-panicked breathing.

Now that I was finally alone, everything that had happened seemed to pour through me. Every image of that Friday night played with crystal-clear across my memory, followed by each of my run-ins with Jessica since then.

Part of me ruefully noted that Jessica had chosen the right major; she was a perfect theater diva. But while I tried to objectively think through all that had happened and what I should do next, I suddenly felt bereft.

I brought my knees to my chest, dropped my head onto my kneecaps, and struggled to suppress the sobs that wanted to burst forth.

I hated being so weak, but at the same time, I just felt so lost, so alone. I knew that I shouldn't let Jessica's histrionics hurt me, but whom did I have to lean on? Friend-trouble was the kind of thing about which a girl went to her mother for advice…but my mother was dead. My father, still wrapped up in his grief, wasn't a talker…or a listener. And he was completely useless in social situations. Angela was happily married to her Ben, and I didn't want to bring any more of my sad drama down on them. Obviously Jessica was no longer an option. And as much as I liked Rosalie and Alice, I didn't know them well enough to unload all of this crap on them.

Hiding my face, I gathered the remains of my strength to force the tears down deep; however, I couldn't stop my body from shaking, thankful that very few students passed this direction during the mid-afternoon.

That's where Alice found me a few moments later…as if she had known I would be in this exact spot trying to keep myself from having a complete meltdown.

Silently she gathered my things and escorted me to the truck where Jasper was waiting; from a quick glimpse of his face as Alice nudged me into the back seat, he also didn't seem surprised by my clenched jaw and trembling hands; in fact, he seemed resigned, as if it were no more than he had expected. Alice climbed into the back seat with me and, with her arm around my shoulders, she supported my head against hers the entire drive home, not saying a word.

Which seemed quite unusual for Alice.

As soon as Jasper parked his truck and opened the door to get out, Alice's unspoken sympathy finally broke down my defenses; I felt the dam behind which I had been suppressing my emotions begin to crack. Wrenching myself out of Alice's embrace, I shoved frantically against the seat front of me in order to exit the vehicle. I stumbled out of the backseat, almost face-planting on the driveway, ignoring Jasper's offer of help. Scrambling to my feet, I ran toward the house and through the fortunately unlocked front door. My feet pounded across the living room, up the stairs, down the hall, and into my room.

Slamming the door shut behind me, I threw my backpack on the floor and flopped across my bed, safe at last where I could allow the dam to break…or in this case, implode. Sobbing hysterically, so horribly embarrassed and humiliated once again by Jessica and her flair for drama, I allowed myself to let all of the suppressed emotions out, burying my face in my new pillows and hoping that none of my new housemates could hear my frantic sobs.

Since my mother's death, I had become quite the expert at holding back my emotions until I was in private, hiding who I really was from anyone who could use it against me. Or who could feel sorry for me and make it that much more difficult to remain in control.

And even alone, I feared letting myself go completely…because I might never find myself again….

But today's events, coupled with the events of the last ten days, had put me over the edge, and I was more than willing to take that risk.

This time, I had no other choice.

I wasn't sure how long I cried, but somewhere in the midst of my hysterical sob-fest, I fell asleep. When I finally pried my swollen eyelids open, my room was dimly lit by the one small lamp on my dresser. I was also covered with an old-fashioned white quilt that I didn't remember seeing before.

Alice or Rose or someone must have come in, turned on the light, and covered me while I slept.

_That was nice of them. _

Wearily I sat up on my bed, trying to ignore the dizziness that struck me as soon as I raised my head.

A gentle knock sounded at my door, and I invited the person to enter.

Alice opened the door a crack and slipped through, seating herself quietly beside me on the bed. "How are you doing?" she inquired, her eyes filled with concern.

"Okay, I guess." I shrugged.

"I made salad for dinner—would you like some?" she asked kindly.

Panic struck my heart, my hand flying to my chest in my distress. "Oh no—I was supposed to make dinner! I'm so sorry, Alice!"

Alice quickly reassured me that it wasn't a problem. "You see, Rosalie doesn't cook and neither do I. And the guys can only grill stuff. But I can throw together a mean chef salad, and I made a plate for you." She tugged lightly on my sleeve. "Come on."

I got up, but my head swam, forcing me to grasp the end of my sleigh bed for support.

"When was the last time you ate?" Alice asked, her dark brows crinkling together into a frown.

"This morning," I sighed as my head slowly began to clear as I adjusted to my standing position.

All the way downstairs, Alice scolded me for not eating adequately. I agreed with her quietly, too exhausted and weak to attempt a more expansive excuse about ducking into the library at lunch then sleeping through dinnertime. I was grateful when she led the conversation to noncommittal subjects as she sat with me while I ate; I very much enjoyed the huge, protein-rich salad with fresh greens and grilled chicken.

As I speared the last cherry tomato with my fork, I remembered something. "Oh, and thanks for turning on the light in my room and for covering me while I slept, Alice."

Her beautiful eyes widened in shock. "What are you talking about, Bella?"

"When I woke up, the light from my dresser was on, and a quilt was over me."

"Really?" she asked.

"I'm positive."

"Just a second," Alice said, disappearing. I heard her bare feet slapping up the stairs, stopping at Rosalie's door for a moment, then continuing down the hallway and returning.

As she re-approached me, she held out the beautiful white-on-white quilt that seemed the perfect size for a child's bed; I could see the exquisite detailing much better in the brighter light downstairs. "Is this the quilt that covered you?" Alice asked.

"Yes." I nodded, curious about her question.

"Are you sure?" she asked, her eyes narrowing. "You're absolutely certain that you've never seen it before?"

"I'm positive, Alice. What's wrong?" I asked, confused by her tense tone of voice and serious questioning.

Closing her eyes for a moment, Alice took a deep breath, then opened her eyes to look down at me, puzzled. "I checked with Rose just now; she didn't go in your room this afternoon or tonight. Emmett hasn't been here all day, and Jasper's been at his study group since four."

"Okay," I said uneasily, more than a little weirded out by the strange gleam in Alice's eyes. "But I don't see what the problem is."

"Bella, I didn't enter your room until I came to get you for dinner just now." Alice paused, staring at me meaningfully as she slowly stated, "I didn't turn on your light or cover you with the quilt."

She laid the quilt in my lap as she whispered, "I found this quilt in the room that's now yours when I was cleaning it out over the summer. So I washed it and stored it in one of the old cedar chests along the back wall in the attic several months ago. I haven't seen this quilt since."

_**And the plot thickens….**_

_**Special thanks to my amazing pre-readers, ladylibre at FFn and EmmyDana on Wattpad. They save me from many an inconsistency—I adore them!**_

_**And if you aren't reading pattyrose's "The Cullen Legacy" on FFn right now, RUN, don't walk, and start reading! Tuesdays and Fridays are now my favorite days of the week! **_

_**Thanks for your patience! I'm done with grading final research papers for our homeschool co-op, and then I'll only have my online Shakespeare class to worry about, plus getting those three teen boys through their last three weeks of homeschooling. Sometimes they get really inspired and want to finish early, so they work ahead like crazy; at other times, they're slow as molasses, and I have to drag them through their last weeks. As of now, I have one powering through and two dawdling…so life could be worse. ;)**_

_**Thank you for reading and reviewing; I did respond to most of the reviews for Chapter 2—and I keep all reviews in a special file. I hang on every word you write to me—thank you! :)**_

_**The B-12 injections seem to be working some, helping with the chronic pain, weakness, and sleep issues I've been dealing with for the past twelve years. **_

_**I hope to "see" you in a week or two with Chapter 4…it's already writing itself in my head, so that's a good sign. ;) **_

_**Much love and many thanks,**_

_**~Cassandra :) xxxooo **_


	5. Chapter 4

_**With special thanks to my pre-readers, ladylibre here on FFn and EmmyDana on Wattpad; I wouldn't be writing without the feedback of these lovely and talented writers! **_

**Chapter Four**

I went to bed that night with an odd, unsettled feeling. I tried to attribute it to the fallout with Jessica at school, but although the situation with Jessica was upsetting, I knew exactly when this particular sensation started: when I woke from my "nap," covered with a quilt I had never seen…but Alice had recognized as something she had stored in the attic months ago.

Restless, I flipped over onto my other side under my new bedding, facing the wall rather than the room. Had I been sleepwalking? Did I somehow go up to the attic, open a chest, grab a quilt, take it downstairs to my room, and curl up beneath it?

But I had never sleepwalked before…that I knew about, anyway.

Nah, sleepwalking made no sense.

And Alice's reaction was puzzling too—I didn't know her that well, but I felt that she knew something about this odd circumstance. Yet she had seemed confused and a little afraid when she confessed that she hadn't covered me—even more so that I did.

_Weird._

_ I was using that word an awful lot lately_, I thought as I flopped onto my back, sighing loudly as I yanked on my still shower-damp bangs.

"Great," I muttered to myself, resigned to not sleeping for a while. Reaching over, I switched on the bedside lamp and grabbed the latest Mary Higgins Clark novel on the bedside table to pass the time and to help me relax enough to sleep…I hoped.

Many pages later, I heard the mantel clock downstairs chime two o'clock in the morning. Deciding to use the bathroom, I padded across the floor, leaving my door half-open behind me as I entered the bathroom and took care of business.

Before I flipped off the light, I peered at the tired, pale face staring back at me in the mirror. I was going to have a stellar day tomorrow at school, especially when Jessica's little friends heard about what happened between us. I could just imagine their smug expressions, their eyes narrowing in dislike. Knowing them, they'd glare at me as if I were a disgusting cockroach that they couldn't wait to squish beneath their Jimmy Choos. At least I had a short day with two classes, and only one of those with any of Jessica's friends. But still, Jessica could make drama happen with the merest flick of her well-manicured claws.

Gritting my teeth at these thoughts, I turned off the bathroom light, but abruptly stopped in the middle of the hallway.

My bedroom door was closed.

_Wait a minute..._

I specifically remembered leaving my door ajar when I left to use the bathroom.

Closing my eyes for a moment, I thought back through my actions since turning on my light to read. I had barreled through a good hundred pages in the suspenseful novel, and then I had decided to try to sleep again. But going to the bathroom first was obviously crucial. I had slipped from the bed, walked barefoot across the floor, opened the door, and had left it open while I used the bathroom.

_But now the door was closed. _

I tried to remember if I had heard anything since entering the bathroom, but for the life of me, nothing came to mind…and certainly _not_ the pronounced click of my bedroom door closing. It was an old, heavy door with an antique brass knob, and it made a definite sound when it was shut.

_Okay, this was getting weird…. _

As I stood there in the hallway, a sudden wave of exhaustion and sleepiness came over me so powerfully that I threw out my hand to support myself against the wall so that my knees wouldn't buckle beneath me.

"Bella? Are you all right?"

Although Jasper's words were barely above a whisper, I jumped, startled. He was standing halfway down the hallway just past Rosalie's closed door, his loose t-shirt, flannel sleep pants, and shoulder-length hair sleep-rumpled as he looked at me, puzzled. I managed a weak, embarrassed smile, but as I opened my mouth to say that I was fine, another strong sensation of sleepiness overtook me again.

I felt my legs crumpling under me before everything went dark.

-0-0-0-0-0-

"I don't know what happened. She was just standing there in front of her door, and her face went completely white, and then she collapsed. I caught her before she could hit her head at least." Jasper's voice seemed to echo from far away.

"Bella, sweetie, wake up. Bella, you're freaking us out, okay?" Concern laced Alice's words. "Do you think we should get Rose?"

"No," Jasper answered softly. "She has that huge bio-chem exam tomorrow…or later today, anyway. Let Rose sleep unless something else happens."

As Alice and Jasper conversed, their voices seemed to get closer and clearer to me. I felt a damp cloth being gently smoothed over my face and neck, and the cool wetness was slowly bringing me back to awareness.

I was so sleepy; my limbs felt incredibly heavy. Even my eyelids seemed to weigh ten pounds each, and the mere thought of opening them seemed a Herculean effort.

"I think she's coming around," Alice whispered. "Just a few more minutes."

How she knew when I would awaken was beyond me, and my tired brain had no interest in pondering her guess or prediction or whatever-it-was.

But Alice was right. The extreme lethargy slowly lifted; I forced my eyes open with great effort, eliciting a groan from deep in my throat.

"Bella, how are you feeling?" Alice asked, obviously worried. She set aside the washcloth she had been using on my face and forced a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "We're awfully glad you made it back to the land of the living," she joked weakly.

"I'm okay, I guess," I half-fibbed, blinking my eyes against the brightness of the well-lit room…my room, in fact. "What the heck happened?"

Jasper repeated what he had told Alice a few moments ago, and I felt my forehead furrowing as I fought to remember the events of the evening while he spoke. "So I laid you on your bed here and woke Alice to help me," he finished with a sigh.

"How long was I…out?"

"About ten minutes. We were about to get Rose to come take a look," he added. Oh, yeah—Rose, the pre-med student would indeed be the logical one to assist.

Then Jasper looked at me with piercing blue eyes as he asked, "What happened?"

"I have no idea," I admitted, struggling to sit up. Alice helped me, placing pillows at my back so that I could recline comfortably as I explained how I had been reading because I couldn't sleep, then about my bathroom trip and how the feeling of total exhaustion had suddenly come over me. "Oh, I almost forgot," I added. "When I came out of the bathroom, my door was shut, but I am positive I left it open."

"Well, I wouldn't worry about that," Alice said hurriedly. "This old house is drafty, you know—the door probably blew shut." But she played with the damp washcloth, folding and refolding it rather than looking directly at me as she spoke.

I mentally shrugged; it had been too strange an evening to figure out what was going on with Alice as well as everything else that had occurred.

Turning to Jasper, I thanked him quietly. "I'm really glad you were there, Jasper; I really don't need a headache from hitting the floor in addition to being this sleepy," I said quietly, trying to stifle a yawn behind my hand.

Alice looked at me sharply. "So you're still feeling the exhaustion?"

I shrugged. "Yeah, I'm probably just overtired after all that happened today."

Her eyes bore into mine—which struck me as odd after she had refused to look at me just moments ago. "I don't think so," she stated softly but firmly. Then she looked away, shaking her head for a moment as if to clear her thoughts and smiled widely…though her grin didn't reach her eyes. "Well, it's late for us all. Bella, do you want me to stay in here with you?" she asked.

I smiled at her sleepily. "That's a lovely offer, Alice, but I'll be fine."

At her skeptical glare, I added, "Really."

"Goodnight then, Bella," Jasper said quietly, but he seemed troubled as he placed his arm around Alice's shoulders and escorted her from my room.

As they reached the hallway, Alice turned in Jasper's embrace. "I'm going to leave your door open, Bella, and ours, too, so that we can hear you if you need anything. Just call—I sleep pretty lightly."

"Thanks," I whispered, my eyes already drooping. Not bothering to remove the extra pillows that supported me in a semi-sitting position, I felt my entire body melting into the bed as sleep overtook me.

-0-0-0-0-0-

The next afternoon I raised my eyes from my Norton Anthology of World Literature, allowing them to rest for a moment after spending the last hour slogging through "The Wife of Bath's Tale" from Chaucer's _Canterbury Tales_ in the original Middle English. Reading Middle English was no cakewalk; I had to keep flipping back to the glossary to look up bizarre words that bore little resemblance to modern English. Despite my tired eyes, however, I was enjoying Chaucer more than I thought I would. He had a wicked sense of humor and a definite bawdy side.

As I resettled myself comfortably into the ancient armchair in the attic, my aching eyes roamed over the scene outside the old-fashioned dormer window. The trees in the back garden were changing colors: golden, scarlet, and burnt sienna leaves fluttered in the late October breezes of a perfect Indian-summer afternoon.

Today had gone far better than I had expected, I mused as my eyes drank in the lovely scene below me. I had awakened rejuvenated, not totally exhausted as I had expected after my lack of sleep and the strange happenings of last night. My heart felt lighter, and I had responded to Alice's inquiries with smiles that seemed to put her concerns to rest though I had noticed her watching me like a proverbial hawk during breakfast.

And at the university I had seen only two of Jessica's cronies in my morning Theater Arts class; fortunately, they ignored me. Nor had I run across Jessica herself; the day had gone far more smoothly than I had anticipated. An unusual but quite welcome feeling of peace and well-being had remained with me all day long, and I had clung to it as if to a security blanket.

Once I got back from my classes, I fixed a pot of tea which I set on a wooden tray along with a cup, saucer, and a few oatmeal cookies I found hiding in the pantry; I carried the tray upstairs with me as I loved tea while studying.

And while I had been looking forward to trying out my new-to-me desk in my room, an irresistible desire to study in the attic beckoned to me. Awkwardly balancing the tea tray, I threw my backpack over my shoulder before clambering up the narrow attic staircase and across the bare pine floor to the little nook consisting of a faded but cushy armchair and a small table tucked beneath the dormer window. After setting the tea tray on the table and opening the dormer window, I had felt totally at home, studying diligently until just now.

As the sun set over the autumn scene below, lighting the leaves afire with color, I was filled with thankfulness. I could never have guessed a week ago that this sorry, messy situation with Mike and Jessica would have resulted in such drama…yet such contentment. Living in this beautiful old house with all its little nooks and lovely décor was so refreshing, and I felt comfortable with Alice, Jasper, and Rosalie (with Emmett as a frequent visitor), more so than I had felt anywhere else I had lived.

And goodness knows, I have lived in over a dozen places over my short life.

But this place was different.

I felt as though I could breathe here.

I felt like myself here, completely at ease...which was a new sensation as I had rarely felt comfortable in my own skin before now.

But the wonder of the late-afternoon sun sinking behind the trees reminded me of my responsibilities, so with a sigh I gathered my tea things and books. As I did so, however, I heard the distinct footfalls of someone ascending the attic stairs and figured it was probably Emmett coming to ask about dinner.

That man was perpetually hungry.

Picking up the tea tray from the small table beside the armchair, I called over my shoulder toward the stairway, "Emmett, I'm coming. I just realized what time it is, and I'll get the chicken in the oven right away." With my arms this full, I'd have to come back up to close the window as Alice had requested when she had given me the attic tour on Sunday; I was too lazy to put everything down and do it now, plus I wanted to reassure Emmett that I was starting dinner.

But as I turned toward the stairs, I was surprised to see no one standing on the landing as I had expected.

"Emmett? Is that you?" I called softly as I took tentative steps toward the narrow attic stairs. But silence greeted me, and there was no one standing on the stairs as I turned sideways to balance the tray and my book bag.

"Huh," I grunted to myself, wondering where the creaking sound had come from. I could have sworn I had heard someone coming up the stairs. The footfalls had been fairly heavy, more like those of a man than a woman. As I dropped my backpack full of books and study materials just inside my door, I shrugged.

_It must have been my imagination, I guess_, I scolded myself as I took the tea tray downstairs and started my preparations for chicken parmigiana, one of my special company meals that I knew the guys would love. As I dunked the boneless chicken breasts into the breadcrumbs and finely-grated Parmesan cheese, I refused to ponder the odd happenings of the past couple days and immerse myself in one of my favorite activities. I really enjoyed cooking for others and especially for a house full of guinea pigs—I mean people—who would hopefully appreciate my efforts.

An hour later I was ringing the brass dinner bell on the kitchen wall to summon everyone to dinner. Everyone _ooohed_ and _aaahed _over the meal which I served with a Caesar salad and garlic bread.

"I think we're really glad you decided to live here, Bella," Emmett proclaimed, his mouth full as he took a huge bite of bread, nodding in agreement to his own statement as his cheeks bulged.

Rosalie elbowed him. "Don't be rude, you doof," she scolded, but I noticed her smirk as she forked up more salad.

"This is excellent!" Jasper said. "I agree with Em. I hope you can stay for a few years at least, Bella."

I grinned at him as the girls chimed in on their praises of my cooking. "I'm glad you all like it," I said, blushing, then added, "I really love living here."

"I knew you would!" squealed Alice. I smiled at her, shaking my head a little. Alice seemed to have two speeds: excited and more excited…when she wasn't acting mysterious, that is.

I asked everyone for some ideas as to what they'd like me to cook for the next week so I could go grocery shopping soon, and the guys especially gave me quite the list of their favorites. Smiling, I jotted down their ideas, glad that this situation of my cooking for them was going so well.

"I got a ton of studying done this afternoon in the attic," I remarked to no one in particular as we leaned back in our chairs, completely stuffed. "Sitting by that little window is the perfect little study nook."

"Really?" Alice asked, her voice sharper than usual. "I never thought anyone would want to go up there unless it was a necessity, much less hang out up there." She almost glared at me, and I frowned, concerned about her strong reaction to my passing comment.

"Was I not supposed to study up there? I thought you said it was okay?" I asked quietly, not sure what to expect from Alice next; she seemed to see-saw from one mood to another with surprising alacrity.

"Um, no, it's fine," Alice replied slowly while Rosalie and Jasper gave her strange looks, seeming to be confused by her reluctance and abrupt change of mood. Emmett, of course, was too immersed in serving himself a third helping of chicken and pasta to notice the strange pall that had fallen over the dinner table.

"Thanks," I said, relieved but still a little wary of Alice's odd behavior. She finished eating her meal in silence, excused herself, and went upstairs without another word.

I looked at Rosalie and Jasper, more than a little concerned. "Did I say something wrong? Does she not want me in the attic for some reason?" I asked, my bottom lip trembling a little. I didn't know exactly how important the attic nook had become to me, but the possibility of being forbidden from using it upset me. _A lot_.

"No, you're fine, darlin'," Jasper assured me. "Alice is just a little sensitive at times, but she never says anything she doesn't mean. So if she says it's fine to be in the attic, then it's fine. Really," he reassured me when he noticed my concern.

"May I ask you a personal question, Jasper?" I asked, trying to shift to a new, lighter topic as I stood to clear the table.

"Sure. Shoot," he drawled.

I laughed. "That was what I was going to ask you. Why do you have a Southern accent but Rosalie doesn't? You guys are twins, after all." I stacked the plates as I spoke, carrying them over to soak in the sink before returning to the dining room and sitting down to hear Jasper's reply.

"Well, in high school I went to stay with our Aunt Chelsea just outside of Austin for a couple of years. She had a small ranch, and after Uncle Marcus died, she needed some help. He'd been sick for a while, so everything had got kinda run down, so I spent my sophomore and junior years of high school down there, helping her out."

"And he brought back quite the Texas accent and some awful hick phrases," scoffed Rosalie, but a sly wink softened her words and tone.

I enjoyed the friendly banter of this household more than I could express. And they seemed so grown-up compared to most of the other students I knew. This was not a group who bonded over beer pong; they had goals and dreams and didn't mind working hard to achieve them. These were my kind of people.

"And I also brought home about five pairs of cowboy boots; don't forget those," Jasper added in a teasing tone.

"Yeah, yeah," Rosalie nudged him with her elbow as she got up. "Let me help you, Bella," she stated. When I objected, she insisted, so I allowed her to help carry what little was left of the chicken parm platter and salad into the kitchen while Emmett consumed the last few bites of garlic bread.

"See, I'm helping to clear the table," he bragged with a wide grin.

Rosalie helped me to store the leftovers, informing me that Emmett would probably take care of them before he went home tonight. "He'll want a snack before leaving, and now that he knows how well you cook, you'd better plan on him being here most nights for dinner."

I smiled at her, contentment stealing over me now that I knew I was contributing in a real way to the life of the household. "Is it okay if I do most of the housecleaning on Saturdays, Rosalie? It will be easier with my schedule," I inquired, and she assured me that it was fine.

"Thanks again for a terrific dinner, Bella," she said, smiling gently before accompanying Emmett back up to her room as they settled in for another long study session which apparently was a frequent occurrence with the two med students.

Washing the dishes contemplatively, I found myself unable to dismiss Alice's rather odd reaction to the news that I had been studying in the attic this afternoon. After brooding over the situation until every dish was washed, dried, and put away, I had no choice but to simply let it go and keep doing what I was doing. I had really enjoyed studying in the attic, and I had completed an impressive amount of homework. So until someone told me otherwise, I would continue studying in my little attic hideaway.

Before heading upstairs for the night, I perused the pantry and refrigerator, figuring out what to make tomorrow night based on the available ingredients. A shopping trip on Saturday was definitely on my agenda. After a few moments, I decided on making clam chowder with sourdough rolls for tomorrow night's meal. Before climbing the stairs to my room, I wiped down the kitchen counters and the dining room table, making sure everything was clean and tidy, just the way I liked it.

Once I was changed into my pajamas and was brushing my teeth over the bathroom sink, I remembered Alice's warning about closing the attic windows if I ever went up there to study. With my arms full with the tea tray and my books, I had planned to go back upstairs to shut the window, but in the wake of the mysterious footfalls on the attic stairs, I had forgotten to go back upstairs. Spitting my toothpaste into the sink and rinsing quickly, I popped my toothbrush back into its holder, switched off the bathroom light, and climbed the attic stairs barefoot.

Once I reached the small landing leading into the attic, I flipped on the light switch, and a single uncovered bulb illuminated the middle section of the attic, leaving the far corners shrouded in darkness. I moved over to the window where the cool breezes wafted in, the scent of the autumn night somehow tangy on my tongue.

I slid into the armchair, entranced by the crisp air swirling into this place of set-aside memories of past generations. Leaning back, I relaxed into the worn upholstery, a strong sensation of drowsiness bringing forth a lazy yawn.

Then the light bulb blinked once, twice, thrice, and then went out, leaving the attic in complete darkness except for a faint glow in the direction of the stairway, coming from the light outside my bedroom downstairs.

Although the loss of light startled me at first, a moment later I was relaxing back into the armchair, enjoying the lovely, comfortable lethargy that looms just before sleep descends.

But just as my eyelids drooped, an unfamiliar figure approached me—not from the stairwell, which was the only entrance to the attic, but out of the shadows from the farthest reaches of the storage space where I knew some old furniture was stacked.

I tried to fight the exhaustion rolling through me, vainly attempting to force my eyes open so I could clearly see this person who slowly and silently came toward me.

Strangely, I felt no surprise—and no fear—at the presence of a complete stranger, one who had appeared out of the darkest corner of the attic as if he had been waiting there with unearthly patience.

He seemed like a dream, this tall, slim figure drawing near, his attention focused on me with an earnestness that somehow erased all possibility of concern for my safety.

But just before the mysterious drowsiness forced my eyes closed and compelled my body into the lethargy of deep slumber, the form knelt before me.

Eyes of the purest forest green were unaccountably warm as he raised an icy finger and caressed my cheekbone with the utmost gentleness. I think I smiled contentedly as I finally succumbed to the most pleasant and restful sleep imaginable, both dreamless and profound.

_**I'm sorry for taking so long in posting this chapter. This last month has been crazy, and I *finally* sent off the last grades for the semester yesterday. Yay! It's officially summer time! I have editing work to do and a fan fiction writing class to teach over the next two months, but I am hoping to have time to write and post weekly chapters. **_

_**I am also hoping to tackle Camp NaNoWriMo with the goal of writing 30,000 words during the month of July—1,000 words a day, not including July 4**__**th**__**. So we'll see if I can get a good number of chapters rough drafted for this story, and I plan to post chapters on a weekly basis. **_

_**Thanks for reading and reviewing! I'm sorry that I haven't been able to respond to reviews recently, but I do read and treasure each one! And I hope to do better with reviews over the summer. :)**_

_**xxxooo,**_

_**Cassandra :)**_


	6. Chapter 5

_**With special thanks to my wonderful and talented pre-readers, EmmyDana on Wattpad and ladylibre on , who keep me on track with gentle nudges as needed. They're the best! **_

**Chapter Five**

As I woke the next morning, I was feeling so refreshed and energetic. I sat up in bed and stretched luxuriously; I was actually looking forward to the coming day which was a rarity for me.

And then the events of the previous night rushed back in an overwhelming cacophony of images, scents, and sounds.

Wait a minute.

_Hadn't I fallen asleep __upstairs__ in the attic? _

My sense of well-being dissipating immediately, I combed my memory, trying to recall coming downstairs and getting into my bed.

But I could remember nothing after the pair of green eyes regarded me so…I guess "tenderly" was the most accurate description.

It had been one of the strangest sensations I had ever experienced. A complete stranger had appeared in front of me out of absolutely _nowhere_, yet I had felt no fear.

None at all.

Not even mild concern.

Instead, I had felt…_safe_.

Had I been really been _that_ tired that I couldn't remember coming downstairs from the attic? Was that even possible?

Rubbing my eyes fretfully, I admitted to myself how deeply disturbing it was that I couldn't remember making my way to my room and going to bed last night.

Ignoring that I needed to get ready for my classes, I crawled out of bed and opened my bedroom door which was closed…just as I usually left it each night. Determinedly I climbed the attic stairs, pausing on the small landing, the bare wood flooring rippled with age beneath my bare feet. The attic light which had mysteriously gone out last night was still off, but I could tell by the length of the chain that it had been _turned_ "off." Last night the chain had shorter by several inches, indicating that it was switched "on."

And the window which I had come up to close in the first place was now shut, the bottom of the window latched securely to the wooden sill. But I had no recollection of closing it. I knew how stiff with disuse the old window was; it had opened only with great effort (and a few choice curses) yesterday afternoon. So I'm sure I would remember the battle necessary to close it.

Yet here it was: shut and latched, exactly as it should be.

I felt a shiver run up my spine at the realization.

I had no memory of closing and latching the window or pulling the light chain to "off" before going down last night. I pushed through the memories of last night—the contentment of the lovely evening, the irresistible sleepiness that had swept through me, and the tall figure with the green eyes appearing out of the shadowy corner of the attic, his green eyes so beautiful, so gentle.

And my next memory was waking this morning—and not just waking, but waking with a joyful exuberance, a totally unusual occurrence.

_Huh. Weird._

Shaking my head, I pattered down the attic stairs and into my room to get ready for my early classes, now having to rush through my routine thanks to my attic detour.

Half an hour later I came downstairs, making my way to the kitchen where Alice and Jasper were already seated at the table, sipping coffee and eating breakfast. Noting Alice's professional attire, I sighed quietly. Alice always looked like she was on her way to a job interview…or perhaps to an office, but certainly not to classes at the university. Silently I wished for her polish and confidence.

Jasper, on the other hand, looked a bit more sophisticated than the average college student, but his concert t-shirt and worn jeans were far less formal than Alice's attire. I glanced down at my usual jeans and sneakers although this time I had donned an olive-green button down shirt that skimmed my figure nicely.

Okay…it was a step in the right direction….

"Hi Bella! Don't you look nice this morning," she greeted me while Jasper nodded, acknowledging me as I entered the room and made my way to put on the kettle.

"Oh, I put the kettle on for you, Bella," Alice informed me with a smile. "I had a feeling you might be running a few minutes late this morning and thought I'd save you the time."

"Um, thanks, Alice," I said, a little bewildered by another of Alice's accurate predictions. The kettle was boiling, and I noticed that my teapot was filled to the proper level with loose tea. As I poured the hot water then allowed the tea to steep for the required 3-5 minutes, I tried to gather my thoughts.

_How had Alice known I would be running late this morning? _

_ And what was it with her weird reaction last night to the news that I had studied upstairs in the attic yesterday afternoon? _

Grabbing a granola bar and a tangerine, I plopped down at the kitchen table next to Jasper. As I leveled a penetrating look at Alice, she grinned at me and winked cheekily. I couldn't help joining her laughter while Jasper glanced first at me then at Alice, obviously wondering what the joke was that he had missed.

"It's a girl thing, Jazz," Alice assured him, squeezing his hand while he shook his head in mock annoyance.

Jumping up to pour my tea, I settled down again to finish my breakfast and made a decision. No more letting Alice's cuteness get in the way of uncovering whatever was really happening here which I had a sneaking suspicion she knew about….

"So, Alice," I started, trying to sound nonchalant, "did the power go out in your room last night?"

Her eyes grew round with astonishment while Jasper leaned forward in interest as he answered for her, "No, our power was fine; our electric alarm clock blinks whenever we lose power, and it was normal this morning." Setting down his coffee mug, he turned to me. "Why do you ask?"

"We're going to be late!" Alice suddenly cried, jumping to her feet. "Come on, Jazz—we need to get going!"

Jasper pulled out his phone from his jacket pocket to check the time. "No, sweetie, we still have fifteen minutes before we—"

"But I have to talk to Dr. Walker before class this morning!" Alice exclaimed. "It's really important…oh, yes…it's about my project. You know how important this project is—it's worth half of our course grade!"

Jasper seemed confused. "I thought that project wasn't due for another two months—" he started saying before being interrupted a second time.

"Well, I need to get started on it! I don't want to procrastinate, you know. Let's go! See you tonight, Bella!" Alice called over her shoulder as she practically frog-marched a rather confused Jasper out the front door.

_ Okay…. _

Alice was definitely hiding something…and not hiding it well. A preschooler could have figured out that something was going on.

_And she was not getting away with avoiding the topic. _

I couldn't stifle a snort of indignation as I drained the last of my fragrant tea before I followed Jasper and Alice out the door, shutting it quietly behind me. Rosalie had later classes than we did and usually slept in since she often stayed up studying half the night. _That woman was definitely a night owl_, I grinned to myself as I got into my sputtering car and drove to campus.

The day ahead seemed rather ordinary; my Monday-Wednesday-Friday classes starting at 8:30 AM were much more intense than my courses on Tuesday-Thursday. With today being Wednesday, I was faced with World Literature followed by English Novel. After a rather long lunch break, I had my most boring class, Economics, then Intro to Philosophy at which meant that I didn't get out of class until 3:45—all of which made for a looooong, tiring day.

I much preferred my Tuesday-Thursday courses which began with Theater Arts at 9:00 AM and concluded with Creative Writing which finished just before 1:00 PM, thus giving me plenty of time to do my course assignments. 18 units was a lot to carry in one semester, but I wanted to breeze through the required General Education (GE) courses as quickly as I could so that I could enjoy the classes in my major..

In a large university such as ours, the GE courses were often taught by teacher's assistants (TA's) who were students usually in graduate programs working on their Masters or Doctoral degrees. I really liked our TA for World Lit; her name was Chelsea, and she brought a nice level of enthusiasm to the course. But because English Novel was a required course for Literature majors, Dr. Aro Volturi taught it to us directly without a TA. He was fascinating and really knew his British history as he related the social, political, and economic backgrounds of the books he assigned.

But it wasn't just the subject matter (which skated too close to math for my liking) that made Economics my least favorite class this semester. Two of Jessica's close friends, Lauren and Katie, were in the class. Katie wasn't bad by herself, but Lauren, Jessica's best friend who had never liked me to begin with, was a definite leader in the "get Bella back" scheme that Jessica had started orchestrating right after my run-in with Mike at that horrid party nearly two weeks ago.

And to make things even worse, we had a handsome TA named James Spencer whom the vast majority of the girls in the class were wild about and whom most of the guys envied, either quietly or with the subtlety of an eighteen-wheeler. So not only did I find the study of finance incredibly dull—balancing my paltry bank account each month was as close as I'd ever get to the world of high finance—but I also wasn't sure what to make of James. He was supremely confident in his good looks and impressive physique (you had to give the man credit—he obviously worked out…a lot!), and he seemed to know the subject matter extremely well.

But something about him was unsettling.

When the other girls made a fuss over him, he smiled good-naturedly…as if he had expected nothing less from college females. (And he was most likely correct.) And he cheerfully ignored the guys' not-so-subtle glares of envy at losing the girls' attention…again as if this situation was completely normal. And he seemed to expect the adulation of the female population of the class, responding to their overtures with mocking grins, cheeky winks, and suggestive banter.

The whole thing disgusted me, actually….when I wasn't trying to stifle my inappropriate laughter at the lengths the girls went to in order to capture James' attention, that is.

But over the last week or so, I had noticed James Spencer staring at me on occasion. When our eyes met, he would send me a dazzling smile, a smile that I didn't return which seemed to annoy him greatly…almost as much as my poorly concealed snorts of amusement behind my hand as at the antics of the other students in class who either adored him (the females) or hated him (the males) reached new heights of absurdity. Perhaps James considered me an anomaly since I wasn't one of his many devoted fangirls worshipping at his feet.

Lauren, who possessed an abnormally high opinion of her own looks, did not appreciate seeing James' attention focused on me over the past two or three class periods. She tossed her long, cornsilk hair over her shoulder seductively, batted the long, heavily-mascaraed lashes surrounding her large sea-green eyes, and adjusted her top to reveal more cleavage…but James remained fixated on me.

A fact which gave me the creeps, actually.

As James finished his lecture, he cheerily bade everyone goodbye but stated loudly, "And will Ms. Swan please see me after class."

With a feeling of foreboding not helped by Lauren's nasty glare, I slowly gathered my laptop, highlighters, and books into my backpack. By the time I looked up from my now-completed task, the rest of the students had left the room, with the exception of James who was waiting for me by the door, his gaze unwavering.

_Ew._

Lifting my backpack to my right shoulder, I approached him warily. Annoyed by his scrutiny as I drew closer, I stopped about three feet away from him, my antipathy barely in control. "What's going on?" I asked coolly, adjusting my backpack on my shoulder so that I wouldn't have to look at him.

"Ms. Swan, please accompany me to the TA office; there's a slim chance we can have some privacy there." He leaned closer, causing me to take a step backward. "I have a proposition for you," he stated in a stage whisper, winking.

"I need to get to my next class," I objected, turning to walk away.

Grasping my upper arm, he swung me around to face him. "It will only take a minute," he assured me with a confident grin.

Okay, he was really getting on my nerves now.

"Get your hands off me," I growled, and, to his credit, he let go.

"I don't have time for this right now—and possibly not ever," I stated evenly, my arms folded across my chest.

His flirtatious façade dropped suddenly, and I could see the earnestness in his eyes. "I have an _academic_ proposal for you," he stressed the word "academic" which did present a different perspective to his request. "So will you please come to the TA office with me?"

A little disarmed by his seeming genuine words and tone, I sighed. "I will be late for philosophy class, so I can't meet today," I suggested, my voice reluctant. "What about tomorrow; I'm done with classes by one o'clock."

He shook his head. "I'm not on campus Thursdays," he stated. "How about Friday after your philosophy class?"

"I'm not out until 3:45."

"Then how about 4:00 at the campus Starbucks?" he asked.

I nodded warily. He opened the classroom door for me with a flourish, and I exited, moving quickly down the hall to avoid being late for my final class of the day.

As I crossed the quad at a half-jog, I noticed Lauren talking to Jessica at some distance, making sweeping movements with her hands before both of them turned to glare at me. That old saying "if looks could kill" was definitely in play right now, but I did my best to ignore them.

_Great._ I had probably earned myself another run-in with Jessica, thanks to James' preferential treatment. Why Jessica's run-ins really bothered me while James' behavior simply annoyed me, I wasn't sure. Perhaps I just knew how horribly catty girls could be, and past experience had made me more sensitive the subtler means females employed to get their revenge.

Although Jessica's slap had been anything but subtle….

But guys were mostly just after one thing, so they were easier to discourage…although I had a feeling that James might be trouble in the making.

I slipped into my last class just as Peter, our philosophy TA, started giving a PowerPoint lecture. His information on Saint Augustine's _City of God_ was fascinating, and I lost myself in the lesson, taking copious notes until he dismissed us.

-0-0-0-0-0-

I was utterly exhausted by the time I got home from classes at 4:30-ish. Rather than allowing myself to succumb to my tiredness, I went straight to the kitchen to make the planned chowder and sourdough rolls. Fortunately, I had brought along my sourdough starter from Jessica's—the girl had refused my excellent sourdough bread, citing one word: "Carbs!"

Ugh. So annoying.

But I was certain that this group would love my home-baked sourdough rolls, and my clam chowder always received raves.

As I mixed up the bread dough and left it to rise while starting the soup, I mulled over James' request to meet with me. From our classroom interactions, I wouldn't be surprised if James made it a practice to "get personal" with female students. But I thought I could handle him. If his academic proposal was legitimate, it might help me when I applied to graduate schools in a couple of years. At this point, I was fairly sure I wanted to pursue a PhD in some field of English.

By the time that I rang the dinner bell, I had decided to listen to James' proposal fairly and impartially. But I wasn't going to tell him that yet; he was going to have to wait until Friday. If his proposal could help me academically, I was prepared to accept.

Although dinner conversation circled around everyone's day at the university, I kept quiet about James' request to meet with me…for now. For some reason, I didn't feel comfortable sharing such news; I would feel better waiting until I had heard his academic proposal and had made a decision. After all, there was no reason to get everyone's hopes up (including mine) only to have to refuse him on Friday if his proposal wasn't genuine. Then I'd really feel like a fool if I told everyone.

As I ladled third helpings of chowder for Emmett and Jasper, Alice turned her eyes on me, blinking at me with complete innocence.

"Oh, no," I groaned. "What now?"

The whole table, Alice included, burst into laughter at my words, tone, and facial expression.

"Bella, I don't know if you've heard of our annual Halloween party," Alice started, her voice still nonchalant.

"Um, no, I haven't."

"Welllll," she trilled, leaning forward excitedly. "Every year on Halloween night, we decorate the bejeebies out of this old place—"

"You mean you decorate the bejeebies out of this old place," corrected Rosalie acerbically, but a grin played at the corners of her mouth.

"Whatever," Alice waved an unconcerned hand at Rosalie. "And we invite all of our friends over and have a real old-fashioned Halloween. Bobbing for apples, pin the broomstick on the witch, a Ouija board, a costume contest—"

"Wait a second," I halted Alice mid-sentence. "Costumes? You've got to be kidding, Alice!"

She sat up as straight in her chair as she could, her eyes narrowed at me. "Of course costumes are mandatory, especially since you now live here."

"But Alice, I haven't dressed up for Halloween since I was ten," I pleaded.

Alice, however, was adamant. "That's not an excuse; that's a tragedy," she hissed at me.

Rosalie laughed. "Don't worry, Bella—feel free to stay away or hide in your room if you want. You do not have to take part in Alice's annual horror extravaganza."

Alice jumped to her feet. "No, Rose, she _has_ to come—and dress up!" I was shocked when her eyes filled with tears. "It's really, really important that she be here and that she's dressed up. I already have her costume all planned out and I even did the shopping for her since I know she doesn't like to buy stuff."

Rosalie threw up her hands. "Okay, I'll stay out of it," she grumbled. "But play fair, Alice," she warned.

Alice turned her huge eyes, brimming with tears, on me next. "Please, Bella? Please, please, please, please, please?"

No one with an ounce of human compassion could turn down that face.

"Fine," I groaned. "But don't make me sorry for this."

"You'll _love_ it!" she squealed, running around the table to give me a hug. "It will be _so_ worth it. You'll see!"

"Yeah, yeah," I grumbled, standing up to start gathering the dinner bowls and plates and clean up the kitchen.

As soon as I entered my bedroom, though, exhaustion hit me like a brick wall. Even though it was not even nine o'clock and I had planned to work on some homework, my bed called to me.

Really, I told myself, I had got everything done that was due for tomorrow's classes in the attic yesterday, so I could go to bed early if I really needed to.

And my heavily-drooping eyelids told me that bed was quite necessary…and soon.

Somehow I managed to get ready for bed before sleep claimed me. Seriously, my head had barely touched the pillow before I was sound asleep.

-0-0-0-0-0-

Although I rarely remembered my dreams, the dream I dreamt this night remained with me for years afterward, not just because of what I dreamt, but because of what happened afterward.

In my dream, I wasn't myself; it was as if I were seeing the events of my dream through someone else's eyes…whose eyes I did not know, but somehow they seemed slightly familiar.

I looked down at my hands, and they were not mine; they were strong, long-fingered—a musician's hands.

Looking up from the hands, I saw a young woman sleeping in the armchair upstairs in the attic. It was nighttime, and moonlight filtered in through the open window beside her, illuminating the red highlights in her shoulder-length brown hair despite the gray-blue tint of the pale light. Although her eyes were closed in peaceful slumber, I knew that they were the loveliest, warmest shade of deep cocoa I had ever seen, and they were full of light and life, humor and intelligence.

As I silently and nervously paced back and forth a few feet away from her, running my fingers through my hair, I could not keep my eyes off her. Every few moments, I stopped my frantic movements to stare down at her, wanting to touch her but restraining myself.

I must remain a gentleman. It was how my parents had raised me.

I couldn't make up my mind. Should I leave the young woman here beneath the window? She was sleeping peacefully and apparently comfortably—but the night would grow colder, and I couldn't bear the thought of her becoming ill.

Sickness took away those we loved—I knew that sad fact from first-hand experience.

Leaning over her but not touching her, I quietly slid the window closed. But the room remained too cold, especially for a delicate living girl.

Yet what right did I have to carry her downstairs? Doing so would be taking a terrible liberty in touching her so intimately. Not that I hadn't been abusing her good graces from the moment she had entered my room, looking about with her curious brown eyes.

From the first time I had seen her, I had been inexplicably drawn to her, yet I always gave her privacy; I refused to be a "peeping tom" even though the young lady now inhabited my bedroom. I left the room the moment she started to dress or undress; fortunately, she often changed in the bathroom across the hall.

I sighed, unhappy with allowing myself to become distracted. Reluctantly I returned to the topic at hand: taking proper care of this lovely young woman who had somehow already captured my heart.

So yes, leaving her upstairs to possibly get chilled was out of the question, yet I should not carry her downstairs…since I was not certain that I could trust myself. I admitted to myself that she evoked strange and new feelings when I watched her—feelings that sped my breath and made me pace more in the past few weeks than I had ever done during my lifetime.

As I watched her, absolutely beautiful in her slumber, she shivered, trying to curl into a tighter ball for warmth.

Very well—that shiver decided me. The autumn night air was too brisk, too chilling, for one as slender and fragile as she.

Slowly I knelt beside her, once again tracing the warmth of her delicate cheekbone with the tip of my frigid finger, a gesture that caused my very heart to glow. Then, taking a deep breath, I placed one arm behind her shoulders and the other beneath her knees, carefully lifting her into my arms.

Moving with the gentlest of motions, I rose to my feet, adjusted her small body against mine, and carried her down the stairs into my bedroom. With the utmost tenderness, I laid her on the bed.

She sighed contentedly, twisting onto her side and balling up in a fetal position for warmth. Once she had settled, I focused my energy to grasp the edges of her covers and carefully drape them over her delicate form.

Despite my better judgment and ignoring the strong morals my parents had instilled in me regarding interactions with the gentler sex, I leaned over this pale, fragile creature and pressed my icy lips to her forehead. Her very warmth suffused my frigidity, and for a moment, I, too, felt almost warm, almost alive.

As I straightened to my full height, I caught my reflection in the mirror over the dresser—the dresser that was mine. I noted my height and slim but masculine build, my wild auburn hair that refused to obey any current style, and my eyes that glittered like emeralds in the moonlight.

And as I had every night since the appearance of this angel in my room, I seated myself silently in my rocking chair and prepared to watch over her, guarding and protecting her until the sun rose.

-0-0-0-0-0-

_**A/N: I think I managed to respond to all the reviews and comments on both and Wattpad for the last chapter. Thanks so much for your amazing and positive comments that made writing this chapter a complete delight! **_

_**And special thanks to ladylibre who guided me in revising this chapter and removing a huge part to use in a future chapter. She saved me a great inconsistency in character and also wisely helped me in pruning this chapter of extraneous details; it was over 6,000 words long and is now around 4300. But many of the parts I wrote for this chapter will show up soon; I promise! **_

_**For those of you ages 12-18, I'm teaching a Fan Fiction class starting this Monday, July 8 and running for 4 weeks; the cost is $199. I taught it last year as well through Brave Writer, and I guided students in writing three fan fiction stories/chapters of increasing lengths and on fandoms ranging from the classics (**_**Little Women**_** and **_**Anne of Green Gables**_**) to **_**The Avengers, Twilight,**_** and anime. PM me if you're interested. :)**_

_**Look for Chapter Six of **_**Only by Moonlight**_** next weekend, and I'll continue drafting this story at 1,000 words/day for Camp NaNoWriMo, then come back to edit and post a new chapter each weekend. **_

_**Take care, everyone!**_

_**Cassandra :)**_


	7. Chapter 6

_**With special thanks to my amazing pre-readers, ladylibre at and EmmyDana at Wattpad for their patience and invaluable assistance for cutting and snipping with authority while this professional editor shook in her proverbial boots at the idea of trimming back my monstrous chapters which are more unwieldy than usual due to Camp NaNoWriMo this month. Love you, ladies!**_

**From the end of Chapter Five:**

_As I straightened to my full height, I caught my reflection in the mirror over the dresser—the dresser that was mine. I noted my height and slim but masculine build, my wild auburn hair that refused to obey any current style, and my eyes that glittered like emeralds in the moonlight._

_ And as I had every night since the appearance of this angel in my room, I seated myself silently in my rocking chair and prepared to watch over her, guarding and protecting her until the sun rose…._

**Chapter Six**

When I woke to my alarm the next morning, I could recall every detail of my strange yet wondrous dream. Each image seemed burned into my memory which was definitely out of the ordinary, for rarely do I ever remember my dreams.

And once again I felt refreshed and relaxed—exactly how I have awakened every morning since I had moved in five days ago.

Of course, it had been odd to dream as if I were someone else—as if I were the green-eyed stranger who only existed at the edges of my consciousness. Seeing myself through his eyes, feeling his strong emotions toward me—admiration, yearning, protectiveness—so many fleeting emotions had washed through him during my dream…and thus through me as well.

It had been a bizarre sensation, yet so very welcome at the same time.

As I sat up in bed, I couldn't help wondering if I was sleeping so restfully because of the handsome phantom watching over me in my dreams?

And why did he care so much that he was willing to spend each night guarding me as I slept?

For some strange reason, I didn't feel frightened or disturbed by his presence, even knowing that not only had he entered my bedroom, but that he also remained here, a silent sentinel while I slept.

Instead, I felt…comforted by his being in my room. He seemed so courteous and modest, so reluctant to touch me, almost as if he were seeking my permission first.

Who in the world behaved like that, anyway? Most guys touched first and wouldn't even consider apologizing afterward…since they were God's gift to womankind, after all.

Like Mike, for example.

But even while dreaming, I knew I had been safe—protected—in my phantom's arms. Somehow I knew that he would let no harm would come to me. The gentleness in his eyes had drawn me into accepting his mysterious presence.

I automatically and absolutely trusted him.

Even though the memory of his kiss to my forehead warmed my cheeks and quickened my pulse, I did not doubt his motives.

But was he really a phantom? Or was he merely the product of my overactive imagination or my fixation with Jane Austen's oh-so-proper literary heroes?

Perhaps this lovely old house brought forth such dreams, taking me back to a more old-fashioned and mannerly time and place, especially after experiencing such rude behavior from Mike and Jessica recently? I knew which era I preferred—an era in which a handsome stranger protected me from harm.

_Perhaps chivalry wasn't dead after all?_

Slipping from my covers, I approached the antique rocking chair in the far corner of my room where he had seated himself in my dream. Warily I touched the armrest, causing the chair to rock gently.

But nothing strange happened.

Turning, I stared at the dresser mirror—_his_ dresser mirror—but I saw only my reflection: pale face, rumpled hair, sleep-swollen eyes, wrinkled navy blue-and-white plaid flannel pajama bottoms and solid navy tank top.

Just plain old me.

Not him—as I had half-hoped to see.

Shaking my head in wistful confusion, I opened my door and crossed the hallway to the bathroom to start getting ready for class. As I brushed my hair in front of the oval mirror, I felt a strange compulsion.

Hairbrush still in hand, I padded upstairs, barefoot still, and glanced around the attic, not sure what I had been expecting to see.

But everything was as it should be. The autumn sunshine streamed in through the eastern windows, and all was as neat as the proverbial pin with windows closed and latched, all the boxes and furniture positioned exactly the way I remembered.

I had expected to see something different than before—anything at all. Something just ever so slightly out of place.

But obviously I had been wrong.

"Huh," I grunted, walking absently downstairs and finishing my preparations for my Thursday classes.

As I came downstairs, I noticed that only Alice was seated downstairs at the kitchen table, sipping coffee and nibbling delicately on a pastry. But instead of being dressed as the poster child for the young professional as usual, today Alice wore faded skinny jeans and a giant University of Chicago sweatshirt that obviously belonged to Jasper; it completely engulfed her tiny form. In fact, I wasn't sure which was in control of her movements: Alice or the sweatshirt.

Heavy-eyed, she glanced up briefly as I entered the kitchen to put on the kettle. As I measured the shriveled tea leaves from the canister and dumped them into the teapot, I heard her sigh.

Grabbing a small plate, a paring knife, and a pear from the fruit bowl on the counter, I plopped down beside her, using the knife to slice the pear into four quarters, carefully trimming out the core.

"Hey, Bella," Alice greeted me quietly, refusing to meet my eyes.

_Okay, this had gone on long enough. It was time to make her come clean_.

"So are you going to tell me what's going on around here?" I asked evenly, setting the knife on the edge of my plate and focusing my complete attention on her.

Shyly she peered at me through her incredibly long eyelashes. "I'm afraid to," she whispered, her hand trembling as she put down her cheese Danish.

Alice "afraid"? Alice has always seemed to be the antithesis of "afraid"; she was bold and brave, a take-no-prisoners pixie in four-inch stilettos.

Whatever was going on here was perhaps more involved than I had first thought, and I couldn't suppress the shiver that went up my spine at her words and manner.

This was not the Alice I had come to know—not in the least.

Placing a hand on her arm, I leaned toward her, trying to smile. "Why is that?" I asked quietly. "I promise—I don't bite…much."

Alice didn't respond to my weak attempt at a joke as she toyed with a piece of her pastry.

"Oh, come on, Alice. You can tell me," I cajoled, elbowing her gently, but my attempt at a lighter, more persuasive tone fell rather flat.

"I don't want you to decide that it's all too much. I don't want you to leave," she murmured, her tone sad but resigned.

Deciding to lay it all out, I asked her, "Alice, does this have to do with a young man who has the most extraordinary green eyes?"

Her eyes became round with shock, and her mouth popped into an "O" shape. "H-h-how do you know about Edward?"

"Edward? Who's that?" I demanded, dropping the piece of pear I had just lifted to my mouth.

Her face fell, disappointment filling her eyes as tears welled up. "So you don't know who he is?"

My appetite waning, I pushed away my plate and focused my complete attention on Alice, asking in confusion, "Whom are you talking about?"

"You know," she remarked with a roll of her eyes, "the more upset you get, the more correct your grammar becomes. And who the heck uses 'whom" anymore?" The much more Alice-like quirk of her eyebrows quieted a bit of my rising anxiety.

"I do," I replied brusquely, not allowing her to derail this most interesting conversation. "Please answer my question. Who is 'he'?"

Alice sighed. "The guy with the green eyes."

"Oh—_that_ guy," I said. Now we were getting somewhere. "How do you know his name?"

"Well, I'm just guessing, but I found some things in the attic over the summer," she said. Glancing at her watch, she exclaimed, "Oh, no—I need to leave right now if I'm going to get to my drafting class on time."

As I began to object, Alice leaned over, looked me straight in the eye for the first time this morning, and placed one of her hands atop mine. "I promise we'll talk tonight, okay?" she offered, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. I could tell that she was still nervous, but the fearful, trembling Alice from a few minutes ago was gone.

"Sure—that sounds nice," I reassured her, smiling.

Jumping to her feet, Alice stooped to kiss my forehead. "I think everything will work out okay now," she said softly. "I can't be sure, but I think it's time for you to know. Before Halloween, at least."

"Okayyyy," I replied, somewhat confused about the reference to her huge party coming up next week. "Thanks. See you tonight," I waved at her as she rushed out the front door.

Fortunately, my Tuesday/Thursday classes were mellow, and I was able to skate through Theatre Arts without incident, enjoying a couple of presentations on the history of theater by my fellow students. After that, Creative Writing, taught by Dr. Alec Nelson, who seemed somehow to think I had a little talent, involved the writing of flash fiction—telling a whole story (beginning, middle, and ending) in only a few hundred words.

We were asked to start writing the flash fiction story in class, and an image of the young man with green eyes immediately entered my mind. I picked up my pen and started writing, words tumbling from my mind almost without conscious thought….

_ From across the room, those green eyes looked at me with such gentleness. They could pierce, those eyes, all too easily, but they did not contain the impatience or annoyance that were his usual reaction to the young ladies of my age, their various machinations directed at him behind an innocuous smile or a too-innocent flutter of long lashes. _

_ Instead, those eyes seemed familiar to me. As if I knew him…as if he had known me—forever. He approached me, striding across the dance floor, his expression at once nervous yet determined. He offered his gloved hand, and as I placed my gloved palm against his, he grasped my fingers warmly as he bowed his auburn head, the usually riotous locks controlled by pomade. In return, I sank into a somewhat uncertain curtsy, my free hand holding my midnight-blue satin skirt._

_ Gently he pulled me out to the dance floor as the strains of an unfamiliar song echoed from small band playing in the corner of the ballroom. He maintained the required distance between us that propriety dictated for a waltz, his eyes blazing triumphantly as he led me through the intricate steps as if we were floating. _

_ But of course, I couldn't manage to dance without incident. On a particularly complicated turn, my heel caught for a moment in the black lace on the hem of my dress, and as I tried to regain my footing, I stumbled awkwardly against his hard chest. Immediately his firm hand on my waist tightened, holding me against his body as we continued twirling around the room as if my clumsy moment had never occurred. _

_ Bending slightly, he sought my eyes as if seeking permission for his continued intimate hold, his concerned expression breaking into a glorious smile as I nodded in answer to his unasked question, my cheeks warm as I blushed deeply. While my eyes drowned in the depths of his emerald gaze, he maneuvered us easily among the other dancing couples. _

_ "I don't believe that I am familiar with this song?" I stated a little shakily, unnerved by my clumsiness and his intensity. _

_ "It's new—a war song, of course—called 'Till We Meet Again,'" he replied. Leaning closer to me so that his lips were at my ear, he whisper-sang the lyrics to me:_

_Smile the while you kiss me sad adieu,_

_When the clouds roll by I'll come to you,_

_Then the skies will see more blue,_

_Down in lovers' lane my dearie,_

_Wedding bells will ring so merrily,_

_Every tear will be a memory,_

_So wait and pray each night for me,_

_Till we meet again._

_ "It's such a sad song," I murmured. Glancing up at him, I saw a pained expression cross his handsome features as he averted his gaze away from mine for the first time since we started dancing. The Great War was ravaging Europe, and thousands of our young men were "over there," fighting courageously in the trenches and in the air. And so many brave lads would never return home as they made the ultimate sacrifice for right and country. Quietly I asked, "Will you be leaving soon, too?"_

_ "The moment I turn eighteen," he almost growled in my ear. He pulled back slightly to regain my gaze. "I had nothing keeping me here in Chicago except my parents…until now." His warm eyes brought another blush to my cheeks as I glanced down. _

_ "Oh no, you don't," he chided lightly, and I raised my eyes to his again. "That's better," he smiled, obviously preferring me to look at him. He leaned forward and whispered in my ear, "Your eyes are so lovely, Miss Swan."_

_ Wisdom flickered, gathered, pooling through his green eyes as if he knew secrets, strange and wonderful secrets that he promised to reveal to me some day. Although I didn't know him well as of yet, I knew he was a safe haven…my safe haven…__my__ Edward…._

Without thinking, I underlined "my" four times.

And then the rush of words failed me. I tried to lasso them back, tried to see the tall young man of my dream last night who had so tenderly carried me back to my room, tried to recall the melody and words of the song we were discussing, tried to lose myself in his green eyes once again….

The clatter of my pen striking the tile floor of the classroom jerked me out of my memories as the professor's amused voice startled me.

"Ms. Swan, are you planning to actually _write_ something this class period, or would you rather daydream?"

Trying to ignore the sarcastic tittering of the students around me, I felt my cheeks warm with the heat of my blush. Reaching down, I picked up my pen from the floor where it had slipped from my limp fingers when my imagination had swept me away.

But nothing else came to me—nothing but those green eyes that, according to Alice, belonged to someone named Edward. Someone I had imagined in a ballroom—the clothes that we wore seeming to be early 20th century.

And how in the world had I known the lyrics to a song from World War I?

The questions filling my mind were confusing—too confusing. In order to appear busy in class, I continued writing for appearance's sake, scribbling as much as the Gettysburg Address as I could remember from high school American history onto a separate sheet of paper.

I was unspeakably grateful that we were going to be allowed to finish drafting and editing our stories before submitting it next Tuesday. I had about five hundred words of my story written, and I would have to decide if I wanted to (or was able to) write more of this story or just edit what I had already written.

Writing about anything else but those green eyes was simply impossible right now, yet although I could see Edward in my mind's eye, no further words describing our interaction came to me.

As soon as Dr. Nelson dismissed us, I rocketed out of my seat and out the door, finding a seat at a stone table in a courtyard. I pulled my laptop out and connected with the university's wifi. Accessing Google quickly, I typed in the name of the song that I had written about in my fan fiction.

"Till We Meet Again" came up on _Wikipedia_, and sure enough, there were the same lyrics that Edward had whispered in my ear in my daydream. Written about a soldier parting from his sweetheart to go to war, the song had come out in 1918 and was the most popular song of 1919. As I re-read the poignant words and remembered how many boys did not return to their sweethearts after the First World War, tears welled up in my eyes.

Frustrated with myself, I dashed away the tears and determinedly crossed the campus to my car and drove home.

When I arrived, the front door was locked. For the first time since moving in, I was coming home to a totally empty house. Using my brass key for the first time, I twisted it in the lock, and the bolt slid back easily. Still carrying my school things, I entered the kitchen, stopping in front of the fridge where everyone had posted their weekly schedules. Studying Alice's Excel spreadsheet, I could see that on Thursdays I would be home alone for almost three hours before anyone else was due home.

It seemed like a good time to get some cleaning done before studying, so after changing in grungy jeans and an ancient t-shirt, I popped in my earbuds, turned my iPod to the Lumineers, and got to work. At least everyone was responsible for keeping their own rooms clean, so I had little to do upstairs besides my own room, the hallway, and the bathrooms on the second floor which I tackled first so that the others could study in peace when they came home. Then I moved downstairs with the vacuum to continue cleaning.

I was just finishing dusting the downstairs furniture when a sudden tap on my shoulder startled me. Spinning around on my heel, I screamed bloody murder—only to see Emmett's grinning face cracking up at my overly-dramatic reaction.

He collapsed onto the sofa, holding his belly as his loud guffaws echoed throughout the house. Yanking out my earbuds, I stomped over to where the oaf was still laughing at me, and slapped ineffectively at his arms and head in frustration.

"Whoa, there, chica!" he shouted, warding off my open-handed blows which did little more than make flapping noises against his hard muscles and even harder head. "What's the deal?"

Not slowing down my useless slaps, I yelled, each word punctuated by an accompanying blow, "Don't. Sneak. Up. On. Me. You. Idiot!"

Effortlessly grabbing both of my wrists in one of his huge hands, Emmett pulled me down onto the sofa to sit beside him. He took a good look at my face which was undoubtedly red from exertion as well as embarrassment…and he apparently saw what I was trying to hide.

_Abject fear. _

"Hey, hey, little girl," Emmett said softly. "Seriously, what's going on? I didn't mean anything, you know—just wanted to surprise you a bit and let you know I was home."

His concern and gentleness brought a burning sensation behind my eyes which I tried to suppress. But even Emmett, not the most observant of mortals, noticed my emotional state and threw a comforting arm around my shoulders.

"What's going on, Bells? You can tell me, you know."

I shook my head. "I can't," I choked out. With great effort, I swallowed back my tears, thankfully keeping them from spilling down my face.

_I was quite the emotional mess today,_ I grumbled to myself.

"Will it make you feel better knowing that I am planning to talk to Alice about it tonight?" I asked him.

Emmett gave me a long, searching look, and nodded. "Okay. Girl stuff, huh?" he inquired, winking dramatically.

"Something like that," I mumbled, getting up and grabbing the Swiffer to finish dusting.

Emmett remained seated on the couch, arms folded across his huge chest as he watched me work through narrowed eyes. "You're not unhappy here, are you?" he asked.

"Nope, nothing like that," I answered with false glibness, glad my back was to him while I finished my task since I was sure that my expression wouldn't have been convincing.

"Okay then. I'm heading up to Rosie's room to hit the books; we have another exam tomorrow," Emmett stated as he hauled his considerable bulk to his feet and stretched lazily.

"You pre-med majors always have an exam," I observed as I gathered my housecleaning things into the plastic caddy.

"Yup—see ya at dinner!" he waved cheerfully over his shoulder as he took the stairs two at a time.

As I put away the cleaning caddy and went upstairs for a quick shower before fixing dinner, I wondered about my extreme reaction to Emmett's presence, plus my tears—the second time I had started crying today. I was definitely stressed right now, and Miss Alice had better be ready to give me some solid answers—and soon.

-0-0-0-0-0-

I cooked a simple meal tonight—Sloppy Joes on toasted potato rolls with oven-baked sweet potato wedges. Emmett ate four of the hot sandwiches, followed closely by Jasper who consumed three, and there wasn't a single wedge left on the tray. Fortunately, I had made enough filling for a dozen sandwiches, planning to save the leftovers for lunches over the weekend, but there was hardly any filling remaining in the pan after the boys finished dinner.

As I placed the last of the dirty dishes in the sink to wash, Rosalie entered the kitchen. "So are you adjusting to feeding two growing boys?" she teased as I filled the sink with hot, soapy water and pulled on my rubber dishwashing gloves.

I laughed. "Well, I had plans for leftovers, but the guys didn't leave much left…over."

"No, they sure didn't," Rosalie grinned before turning serious. "Did you have enough grocery money this week?" she asked. Everyone contributed a certain amount per week for me to food shop with, plus they left a list of items they wanted to add to the grocery list on a small whiteboard in the kitchen.

"Yep, no problem," I stated cheerily as I started washing the silverware. "Is the menu okay?" I asked worriedly. "I'm happy making whatever you all want—"

"It's fine, Bella," Rosalie interrupted. "We're all enjoying your meals. And I wanted to thank you for cleaning today—the house looks great."

I was glad my back was to her so that she couldn't see my blush. "Thanks," I murmured as I washed the frying pan.

"I think this arrangement is working out really well so far," Rosalie stated softly. "Thanks for all you're doing, Bella—the house hasn't been this clean and we haven't been this well-fed in a long time. When we tried dividing up the chores before you came, everyone forgot when it was their turn despite Alice's lists, and we ate takeout most of the time. Plus the house wasn't fit for company unless Alice had a party planned, and then she worked us like dogs. So having you helping out is much less stressful for us all."

"Thanks," I repeated, feeling my face warm up as my blush deepened.

"I'm heading upstairs to study," she said. "Thanks again for all you're doing, Bella."

"You're welcome, Rosalie," I replied.

"It's Rose, if you like," she said over her shoulder as she walked toward the stairs. I grinned to myself, glad that Rose had lowered another barrier. She was a bit distant at times, but I could tell that she was a softie underneath her cool beauty and standoffish attitude.

After Rosalie left and I finished washing and drying the dishes and then wiping down the kitchen work surfaces, I poured a half glass of Riesling and took it out onto the back patio. Stealing one of the padded chairs from the table, I dragged it out onto the lawn and sank into the soft cushions.

Wineglass in hand, I leaned my head back and gazed up at the sky. The sun had set about half an hour previously; night had nearly fallen. The sky was midnight blue, paler toward the horizon, and any hint of moonlight was absent tonight despite the clarity of the skies.

Even in the middle of a city the size of Chicago, the back garden seemed a private place, quiet and peaceful. I gloried in the tranquility as I sipped the sweet wine, relaxing and not really thinking of anything as I closed my eyes, my body weary after all the work I had done this afternoon and tonight.

After enjoying the peacefulness for a few moments longer, I reluctantly opened my eyes and pulled myself to my feet. It was time to start tackling the massive pile of homework awaiting me, especially since I had spent the afternoon hours cleaning rather than studying. As I grasped the stem of my empty wineglass and turned to go into the house, my glance passed over on the third-story window above me.

Light from spilled from the attic window where I had studied earlier in the week, and the window….

_The window was completely open._

Then the sudden change above me caused my jaw to drop open, and the wineglass in my hand fell to the grass at my feet as I dropped it in shock.

Where only a lit window had been in my sight a moment ago, now a tall, unmoving masculine figure was silhouetted against the light streaming from the window. Although I couldn't see his eyes, from the angle of his chin I was fairly certain that he was staring at me—just as my eyes were fixed on him.

As I watched the immobile form and he seemed to watch me, the attic light flicked off, leaving the third story windows awash in darkness.

The loss of the light that had so perfectly outlined the figure jolted me into action. Fortunately, the wineglass had safely landed on the lawn, so I scooped it up in one hand while grabbing the chair with the other. Moving quickly toward the house, I returned the chair to the patio table and rushed inside, bolting up the stairs, then rounding the turn in the hallway and mounting the attic stairs at a run.

Once I entered the utter darkness of the attic space, I skidded to an awkward stop, cursing myself for not grabbing a flashlight on my way upstairs. Blindly stumbling forward a few steps, I grasped madly for the pull chain to the ceiling light. It took me several tries, but finally my fingers encountered the chain, and I yanked on it impatiently.

The attic was bathed in the soft glow of the single bulb, just as it had been on previous nights. As soon as light illumined the third-story room, I spun to face the window where I had studied.

The window was now closed and latched, and the armchair and table were exactly as I had left them when I studied here two days ago.

Before I had time to puzzle over any of the mysterious circumstances of the past few moments, I froze in fear as several events occurred at once.

A cool sensation spread outward from the middle of my forehead, followed by a glancing feeling of cold that traveled from just below my left ear, along my jaw, to my chin…and stopped just as the clatter of pounding footsteps rapidly ascended the attic stairs.

With my left hand, I covered my mouth, trying to stifle the scream rising in my throat as the eerie echo of quick footfalls approached ever closer….

-0-0-0-0-0-

_**Thanks for your patience in awaiting this chapter. Two weeks ago we had a forest fire scare near our mountain town. The mountain above our town (where my parents have had a small cabin for the last 17 years) was on fire, and the fire burned nearly 200 structures and over 7000 acres. The evacuation zone was a mere mile from our house, and the fire approached within six miles of our town. With the erratic winds and temperatures over 105 degrees, our town and several others were put on alert and told to prepare to evacuate. My husband was away from home that day and night, so the four kids and I had to pack up what we needed to take with us in case the fire came any closer. **_

_**Fortunately, we were able to follow the firefighters' scanners online and could track the fire fairly accurately. Late that afternoon, the winds shifted significantly, turning north rather than south, and overnight the firefighters were able to get a handle on the blaze and keep it on top of the mountain and from dropping down into the valley where we live. My parents' cabin weathered the firestorm just fine. But I was exhausted by packing and then unpacking in the heat, plus the stress took its toll as well, so I spent several days quite ill. So apologies for missing posting last week and this week, too, but I hope that you will enjoy the new chapter! **_

_**Thanks for reading and reviewing—I always love hearing from you all! Your kind comments brighten my days considerably, and I think I responded to everyone who left a review. You guys are the *best*! **_

_**However, I've had to disable anonymous reviews as some snide people have been leaving nasty notes about my stories as "guest," and I'm simply not willing to allow them the liberty to leave nasty comments when I can't respond to them. My apologies if disabling anonymous reviews inconveniences any of you. I'm always willing to read and seriously consider constructive criticism, but leaving nasty reviews with no accountability is terribly uncool. I hope you'll understand. **_

_**I'm writing Chapter Seven as we speak, and I hope to get it up fairly soon, preferably by the end of the weekend. My online fan fiction class is submitting their first stories today, so I have a lot of reading and commenting ahead of me this weekend, but I still hope to work on Chapter Seven. :) **_

_**xxxooo,**_

_**Cassandra :)**_


	8. Chapter 7

_**With many thanks again for my lovely and talented pre-readers, ladylibre at and EmmyDana at Wattpad. This chapter would have been far less well-paced and well-written without the creative ideas and perceptive insights of ladylibre especially. Check out their work if you haven't already…. **_

**Chapter Seven**

Wishing I had a baseball bat or something I could use as a weapon in my hands, I slowly turned to face whomever or whatever was racing up the attic stairs.

As I watched the stair landing warily, the chain pull for the light swinging crazily above me, a dark head emerged, a pale face swiveling toward me.

"Alice, you scared the living daylights out of me!" I gasped, sinking weakly into my accustomed armchair.

"Well, you scared me, too," she grumbled, leaning her palms onto her slightly-bent knees as she tried to catch her breath.

"Wait a minute. How in the world did _I_ scare _you_?" I asked, my brows knitting in confusion.

"You were up here turning the lights off and on; I saw them when I got home from filling my gas tank."

Slowly I shook my head. "Alice, I only turned on the lights when I came up here. But I did see them blink on and off when I was in the back yard."

"Hmmmm," was all she said, her brows furrowing in thought. Then she seemed to make a decision. Resolutely she strode over to a stack of folding chairs, pulled one out, and unfolded it near my armchair. Seating herself, she leaned toward me. "Did you see anything else?" she asked quietly, watching me carefully.

I was definitely curious—more than curious, actually—regarding what Alice seemed to know, but I also didn't feel comfortable revealing the extent of my weird experiences. After all, I had moved in only a few days ago, and I didn't want my new roommates to think I was insane.

For example, if I had told Jessica anything like this even before the Mike disaster, she would have laughed her butt off, then proceed to tell everyone she knew about my "crazy," plus every person she happened across in the course of her day: the librarian helping her with a project, the mother in line for milk in the grocery store, etc.

While I knew intellectually that Alice was far more trustworthy than Jessica, I was also reluctant. I really liked Alice, but I didn't want her to think less of me…or have her suggest I see a "professional"…or have her look at me with pity in her eyes—_poor Bella, the girl who sees things…._

"Bella! Bella, are you listening?" Abruptly I came out of my thoughts to Alice's hand waving in front of my unseeing eyes. As she realized I was "back," she lowered her frantic hand and seemed more worried than before. "I asked if you saw anything else?" she repeated.

"Like what?" I asked warily.

"Like a figure," Alice whispered so faintly that I barely heard her. She glanced up at me through her long lashes as if afraid of what I would say.

I took in a deep breath and exhaled it slowly, hoping that doing so would calm me, but it wasn't working very well. I could feel the tenseness in my shoulders while my stomach churned unpleasantly.

But I had to have answers. And in order to get answers from Alice, I was going to have to offer her a few of my own answers, too.

"Yes, I've seen him," I admitted quietly.

Alice jerked her head up, her blue eyes huge in her white face. "So I'm not losing my mind?"

"Not unless I am, too." As I prepared to further assure her that she was not crazy (or at least that she was no more insane than I was), I felt a cold sensation creep down my spine—and I knew that Alice and I were not alone in this attic. I wasn't afraid, but I also wanted to keep our conversation private…if such a thing were possible.

"Let's go downstairs and chat in my room," I suggested lightly, getting to my feet and grabbing her hand. Discussing what we had experienced in this attic needed to take place away from the too-watchful shadows….

_Okay, I was definitely beginning to freak myself out…. _

"Yeah, let's go," Alice shivered. As she released my hand, and moved away to fold and put away the chair, I almost smirked to myself. It was a comfort to know that I wasn't the only one whose priority was to tidy up, no matter how creepy things became.

Perhaps Alice felt the same compulsion I did to keep this room in its present order, perhaps as a sign of respect for whomever or whatever we were experiencing up here, even if we had to face our fears to do so.

"Your room or mine?" Alice asked as I followed her downstairs.

"Is Jasper home?"

"No, he has his Eastern Philosophy study group tonight; he won't be home for another…" Alice paused to check her dainty wrist watch, "…two hours. And that's if they don't stop for a beer on the way home from the library." She smiled wryly as she continued airily, "Philosophy majors are always discussing something or other, and apparently alcohol helps 'broaden the discussion,' or so Jasper claims."

"Wise man, that Jasper," I quipped. Actually, considering our topic of conversation, I almost suggested we follow his lead and have a drink before we begin…or maybe two. Sighing, I suggested, "Let's go to your room then." I definitely wanted to speak to Alice alone without the influence of Edward, and I thought that we had a better chance of privacy in Alice's room than in mine.

Alice gave me a searching look, her eyes widening. "You've seen him outside of the attic, too, haven't you?"

I nodded curtly as I followed Alice down the hall to her and Jasper's room.

While she plopped onto the large bed in the black and yellow room, I made myself comfortable on a small black settee along the right wall.

"So which other room did you see him in?" Alice asked eagerly.

"Well, my room. Kind of."

"What do you mean, 'kind of'?"

"I was dreaming of him being in my room, and in the dream I saw his reflection in the mirror."

Alice shook her head. "But has he actually _been_ in your room?" she inquired, her eyes bright.

"While I haven't seen him with my own eyes anywhere but in the attic," I started slowly, "there is evidence of his being in my room."

"What do you mean?"

"You know—the quilt that covered me that night."

She sighed heavily. "Oh, yeah."

I cocked my head to one side. "How do you know his name?" I asked quietly.

"Well…" she seemed more reluctant now. "The quilt."

When confusion clouded my expression, Alice put me out of my misery. "In the attic, I found the quilt in a wooden chest with the name "Edward Anthony Masen II" carved in scrollwork on the lid. I just assumed that his name was Edward from that, but I could be totally wrong."

"Has anyone else seen him?" I asked.

Alice shook her head. "If they have, no one has mentioned it to me."

"Have you told anyone else about Edward?"

Her beautiful blue eyes were pools of sadness as she spoke slowly. "I tried to tell Jasper, but he…laughed it off. Said my imagination was getting the best of me and that there were no such things as ghosts." Alice laughed wryly, "For all of his study of philosophical theories, Jasper really is a man of science rather than someone who sees possibilities, especially about the supernatural. He's a total skeptic, really."

But beneath her flippant dismissal of Jasper's doubts, I sensed that she was hurt by his dismissal of her attempt to tell him something important. Moving from the settee to the bed beside her, I squeezed her hand comfortingly.

And I felt stronger, too, with Alice's small hand in mine. Even if no one else understood, we were united in our common experience.

"I imagine Rose would react the same," I mulled aloud, and Alice confirmed my thinking-out-loud with a quick nod. "And Emmett doesn't officially live here."

"Exactly," she confirmed.

"Hmmm," I pondered. "Tell me about the chest upstairs."

"It's easier to show you," Alice replied softly. "Do you want to look now or later?"

"Let's talk first, and you can show me the chest afterward." I leaned forward, still holding her hand, my voice betraying my eagerness. "So where have you seen him?"

"Well, I've _felt_ him there most of the time, especially over the summer when I was working up there, but only when I was alone. But if either of the guys were up there, then he left or something; I didn't sense him at all."

"Why do you think we can feel and see him?"

Alice paused, and I had the feeling that she was making a major decision. "Bella," she said softly, "Sometimes I get really strong premonitions, and they've almost always come true."

Somehow this revelation didn't surprise me. Alice had always seemed extremely perceptive despite her (often transparent) attempts to hide it. She never really seemed to relax; she was always on edge. Her excitable personality probably contributed to her restlessness, yet throughout the week I had sensed that something deeper was troubling her.

But now was not the time to ask questions; it was Alice's chance to share her secret with me. I only hoped that telling me about this ability would bring her a little peace.

"Really?" I asked softly. "Wow. That's amazing, Alice."

Sighing, she looked down at her hands for a moment before raising her blue eyes to mine. She must have been satisfied by what she saw there because she continued her story. "Last spring I had this vision of a beautiful young man with auburn hair and green eyes waltzing with a woman…a young woman who looked exactly like you."

My mouth dropped open, shock stealing my breath and numbing my lips. I felt my face draining of all color.

_Did she just say…"waltzing"?_

"Bella?" Alice leaned forward anxiously, taking my limp hands in hers. "What is it?"

I could barely suck in air to gasp, "Backpack."

"What?"

Somehow I managed to draw enough breath to get out a whole sentence. "Go get my backpack."

Alice ducked out of her room, returning seconds later with my bookbag, placing it in my lap. Sitting beside me on the bed, she looked at me expectantly.

Fumbling with the openings, I opened the backpack and pulled out my Creative Writing notebook. I opened it to today's flash fiction assignment and silently handed it to Alice.

"Oh my goodness," whispered Alice as her eyes sped over the page. "This is exactly what I saw last spring!" She turned to me. "When did you write this, Bella?"

"Today in class."

Alice paled. "Oh my goodness," she repeated, her voice barely audible.

"Did you have any other premonitions?" I asked shakily.

"Yes," she answered. "But I don't want to tell you; it's so tragic."

The word "tragic" caught my attention, and I pulled my open backpack toward me. Removing my laptop and opening it, I clicked on the icon entitled "My Writing" and opened the folder containing the story I had written my first night here: the story of the young man and his parents dying during an epidemic. Turning the laptop, I placed it in Alice's lap.

Alice's jaw dropped, and she raised a trembling hand to cover her mouth. After she finished reading my very rough story, the first story I had written in such a long time, she quietly closed the laptop and handed it back to me.

"That's what I saw, too," she whispered, white to her very lips. "And I recognized the room in my vision as the one in this house that we used for storage. The next morning, I went to check the room, and I felt this strange compulsion to clean it out and rent it. I can't explain the feeling, but I knew I _had_ to do it. It was harder to convince Rose and Jazz since we really didn't need the money for renting the room, but I guess I was persuasive enough because they let me go at it."

"And when I came to the door on Saturday…" I trailed off.

She smiled. "I knew immediately that we were on the right track when I saw the girl from my vision."

"Wow."

"Yeah."

We were silent for a moment, allowing the significance of these connections sink in fully.

A knock at Alice's door startled both of us; we jumped at exactly the same time and exchanged rueful smiles.

"Come in," Alice invited.

Rose opened the door. "Hey, Bella. Alice, do you know when Jazz is due back?"

Scooping up her cell, Alice checked the time. "He should be back at any time now. Why?"

"Dad just called me and wanted to talk to Jazz about something. It's not pressing, though. Can you tell him to call Dad back tomorrow?"

"Sure."

"Thanks. Goodnight, ladies." Rose smiled as she quietly shut the door.

I must have looked a bit puzzled because Alice filled me in. "Rose and Jazz's parent live in New York. Their dad wants Jazz to work with him on the family investments in order to" she employed air quotes, "'keep him grounded.' He wasn't thrilled when Jasper decided to major in philosophy rather than something practical like business or pre-law."

"Oh," I reply stupidly, not really knowing what to say.

"Well, let's ignore family politics for a moment and get back to what's going on here in Chicago."

I took in a deep breath, steeling myself for a further discussion of these bizarre happenings. Yet knowing that I wasn't alone—that Alice had experienced some of the same phenomenon—reassured me greatly. Returning to our previous topic, I asked, "Have you only seen him in the attic?"

She nodded. "Over the summer I saw him twice, and each time he was running his hand over the wooden chest with the name on it. That's why I assumed that his name was Edward. But it could have been his father's chest or his brother's or someone else's. But I sensed that he had a strong connection to the chest, so I started calling him 'Edward' in my mind."

Alice looked at me thoughtfully. "He never looked at me, though," she added as an afterthought. "Only at the chest—it was as if I wasn't there."

"Really? He looks straight at me—staring at me. And in my dreams he sits in my rocking chair, watching me sleep, like he's guarding me."

"How romantic!"

"How creepy, you mean." My words came out more sharply than I had intended.

"Touchy," she teased, then sobered. "He's protecting you. That says a lot."

"I saw him tonight in the attic window," I volunteered softly. "He was definitely staring at me."

"Wow."

Again our conversation paused as we considered the ramifications of our information.

I decided to change the subject. "What is so important about Halloween?" I asked. "You are really pushing this party, Alice—and especially for me to participate."

She smiled, but her eyes were thoughtful as she replied slowly, "I don't know exactly—I just feel that the Halloween party is vital."

"Vital…to what?"

Alice gave me one of her knowing looks her eyebrow quirked.

_Sometimes she is maddening beyond words._

"Do I get to know what I'm wearing before the 'big event'?" I asked snarkily.

"It's a surprise, but you'll know why I chose it as soon as you see." She practically bounced on the bed in her enthusiasm.

"Do you realize that you're most likely setting me up with a ghost, Alice?" I asked acerbically.

"I wouldn't call him a 'ghost" exactly—perhaps he's just 'living-challenged'?" she joked.

The thin line of my mouth indicated my decided lack of amusement.

"Awww, trust me, Bella. I have a strong feeling that this relationship will be a good thing for you. A very good thing," she stated confidently.

"Relationship?" I snorted. "With the phantom in the attic?"  
"You're so funny, Bella," she grinned unrepentantly.

"If you haven't noticed, I'm not laughing, Alice."

"Oh, lighten up, sweetie. He takes care of you, looks out for you, watches over you. It sounds like you're in a relationship with him already, whether you like it or not."

Once again, Alice left me gaping at her like an idiot. What could I say to that, anyway?

And although she knew that he looked at me, I still hadn't told her _how_ he looked at me.

Like I was someone wondrous. Someone _precious._

And the warmth in his green eyes…I couldn't put into words how the expression in those eyes made me feel….

No way. There's _zero chance _I'd tell her that. Even though I had met Alice a mere five days ago, I knew that if I revealed these details, she'd most likely be dragging me to Macy's to select wedding china this weekend.

"Nevertheless," I replied after I had managed to temper my surprise. "I haven't had much luck with the male species…_dead, alive, or otherwise. _Period."

"I kind of figured that out—which is why the Halloween party is so important. You _have_ to come. Promise me?" Alice pouted adorably, fluttering her long lashes.

"Fine," I grunted. "But I reserve the right to go hide in my room if the party turns into a disaster. Understood?" My eyes narrowed as I tried to wring my terms for détente from the over-enthusiastic pixie.

"Sure, sure—that's fine," she agreed hastily, extending her hand for me to shake and seal our "bargain"…before I had the chance to change my mind.

Reluctantly I shook her hand. "I have a bad feeling about this," I groaned.

"Well, I don't. This is going to be epic!"

I decided to bring the squealing girl back to earth. "How about taking a look at that chest now?"

"Killjoy," she grumbled, but I could tell that she was still smiling as she turned away.

Grabbing my backpack and stuffing my laptop and notebook back inside, I threw it over my shoulder as I followed Alice from her room. Entering my bedroom, I dropped my backpack on the bed before opening the drawer of my bedside table. I turned to Alice, flashlight in hand.

"There. I think I'll feel better using this. I feel so stupid; I should have pulled it out whenever I went upstairs," I babbled nervously, "but it never occurred to me that—"

"Bella," Alice interrupted. "We're just going up the stairs, and then we'll turn on the light. We don't really need a flashlight."

I hugged the device close to my chest. "Call it my security blanket then," I challenged. She rolled her eyes as I switched it on and gripped it securely in my right hand.

"Bella, I think that Edward is past the point of wanting to scare us. He's your protector after all, remember?"

Ignoring her, I motioned with the light. "Lead on."

"Okay, okay," Alice grumbled as she climbed the attic stairs with me a mere step behind her.

"Can you get the light?" she asked as we reached the landing. "It's too high for me to grab."

"You mean you're too short," I teased lightly. "Ow!"

Alice definitely had knobby elbows that caused significant pain when they made contact with my ribs.

Reaching up, I found the pull chain and tugged; the single bulb illuminated the boxes, old furniture, and various odds and ends of the last century of living in this beautiful old home.

Grabbing my hand, Alice led me to a dark corner—the corner from which Edward had appeared to me, actually. She stopped in front of a wooden chest about four feet wide and two feet deep with a flat top—it resembled a hope chest that might have been at the end of a bed in past centuries. The pleasant scent of cedar tickled my nose.

"Help me?" Alice asked, and I grasped one end of the chest as she supported the other end; we lifted it carefully, moving it to the attic floor directly beneath the dangling light bulb.

Facing each other, we sat cross-legged with the chest between us. I felt my heart hammering in my chest, my breath coming quickly in anticipation. _What would we find inside? _

Almost reverently, Alice opened the chest. On top was the same white quilt that had covered me the other night. It wasn't a full-sized quilt; it was more lap-sized and slightly yellowed with age. Carefully she lifted the folded quilt and handed it to me; I placed it on my lap and bent forward again, eager to see what else was inside the chest.

Alice reached in and brought out a parcel wrapped in faded red velvet. Unwrapping it carefully, she revealed a beautiful pocket watch—a man's, by the size of it—which she laid in my outstretched palm. Perfectly round, the silver cover was intricately engraved with a coat of arms: an upright lion in profile, its claws extended and tail swishing, below a knight's helmet with closed visor, also in profile facing left like the lion in the center. A small yet intricate mermaid floated above the helmet, and across the top of the coat of arms was a ribbon emblazoned with a motto in Latin: _Dum spiro spero_. (Author's Note: this description is of the Masen coat of arms (including the motto) according to )

Of course, the researcher in me yanked my iPhone from my pocket and quickly searched the Latin phrase.

_"While I have breath, I have hope,"_ I whispered, moved to tears by the words that seemed so appropriate for this young man. Hearing a sniffle, I glanced up to see Alice wiping her eyes as well.

"Wow," she breathed. "Open it."

Turning the watch in my hands, I found the hidden catch and pressed it. The watch opened smoothly, displaying a face with Roman numerals on the right half with the name of the maker: _E. Howard and Company, Boston_. The left side was engraved in beautiful scrolled handwriting. I had to squint a bit to read the intricate copperplate words, but at last I read aloud: _To our beloved son, Edward Anthony Masen, on the occasion of his wedding: June 15, 1896. With hopes and prayers for a long life of love and felicity with your darling Elizabeth, Your Father and Mother._

"This must have been his father's watch," I whispered, "if Edward was nearly old enough to enlist in the First World War. So he must have been born around 1900."

"That sounds about right," Alice agreed as I placed the watch on the table beside me.

Again she reached into the chest and brought out a black velvet-covered box—the type jewelry is kept in. Opening it, she displayed a golden locket on a delicate chain. The locket was heart-shaped with engraved scrollwork around a small heart in the center.

"Go ahead," I encouraged her, and Alice popped open the locket. On the right side was a wedding portrait that must have been around the turn-of-the-twentieth century. The groom and bride were unsmiling, as was the case in most early photography as they had to stand perfectly still for so long, but I noticed an aura of happiness in their eyes despite the serious faces. The groom had dark hair parted on the side and a well-defined jaw; the bride's hair, though styled up and beneath a white hat, looked curly and somewhat uncontrolled.

"I wish I could see the color of their eyes," I murmured, gazing at the black-and-white photo now faded to sepia.

"Bella, read the engraving," Alice urged me. I had been so taken by the picture of the bride and groom, most likely Edward's parents, that I hadn't noticed the faint words facing the happy couple:

_June 15, 1896_

_To my beloved wife as _

_we begin our life together—_

_My heart is yours and yours alone._

_All my love,_

_Edward._

"That's so romantic," sighed Alice dreamily. I could only nod in agreement as words were beyond me for the moment. Okay…for a _looooong_ moment….

Once I regained control over my emotions, I leaned over the box. "What else is in there?"

Alice pulled out a worn, rather slim leather book next. The front was embossed with the Masen coat of arms and motto, and centered on the bottom was the name: _Edward Anthony Masen II_.

She handed me the book which I opened carefully and thumbed through the pages. "Alice, it's a journal—Edward's journal!" I nearly screamed like a fangirl.

"Wow, this can tell us so much about him," Alice said excitedly.

But as I held the book in my hand, a feeling of trepidation filled me. "You know," I said slowly, "I don't want to read his journal until he gives me permission. I'd hate for someone to invade my privacy and read my journal without asking first, and I think we owe Edward the same courtesy."

"But Bella—he's dead. How are you going to get his permission?"

My thoughts turned a bit snarky at her question. _Hey, he wasn't so "dead" when you were trying to fix us up a few minutes ago…._ "I don't know exactly, but I want to ask him before reading it."

Alice shrugged. "Suit yourself," she said abruptly, and I could tell that she was extremely disappointed and slightly miffed with me for refusing to read the journal.

Sighing, I asked, "Is there anything else?"

Her curiosity aflame once again, Alice scooped up a bunch of loose pages from the bottom of the chest. "The rest of this all looks like music—some probably store-bought, but most of it looks like it's handwritten." She turned to me. "Perhaps your Edward was a composer," she suggested with a sly wink.

I felt my face burning as I blushed. "He's not _my_ Edward," I insisted softly…although I knew that not only had I written exactly those words in my flash fiction story, but I also had underlined them.

"I just call 'em as I see 'em." Alice raised her eyebrow meaningfully.

Yawning, I stretched as I changed the subject. "It's getting late, and I have a long day ahead of me tomorrow. I think I'll head to bed."

Alice looked at me seriously. "Are you staying late tomorrow?" she asked, her forehead crinkling in concern.

"Yes, I have a meeting after class," I answered, keeping my reply purposefully vague. For some reason, I didn't want my roommates to know that I was meeting with James. I had sidestepped their questions earlier in the week, and I didn't want to tell them anything until I knew more about his proposal. If it was legitimate and I agreed, then I'd fill them in. Until then, however….

Alice laid a hand on my arm, her blue eyes searing mine with the depth of her earnestness. "Bella, I want you to be very careful tomorrow at your meeting." Her voice dropped to a barely audible whisper as she continued, "I have a really bad feeling about this. Do you want me to go with you?"

I was surprised by her insistence and her offer to accompany me to the meeting with James. "No, I'll be fine," I replied, a little shaken by her reaction.

Alice's eyes narrowed. "Whatever you do, don't leave campus with him," she ordered brusquely.

"I wasn't planning to."

"Promise me," she demanded.

"If you insist."

"I do insist," she stated firmly, getting to her feet. I scrambled upright myself. Then we both looked at the chest. "Should I put it in my room or just leave it here?" I asked Alice.

"It's so heavy—I'd say just leave it here. It's been safe up here this long."

"Sounds good to me." I hadn't been looking forward to carrying the heavy chest down the steep attic stairs. We restored the contents of the chest, closed it, and shoved it up against the closest wall which kept it within easy reach if we wanted to examine the contents again.

After yanking on the chain to turn off the attic light, Alice and I went downstairs. Just as I was ready to enter my room, she grabbed my arm, spinning me around to face her.

Her eyes were huge in her pale face, and I could feel her hand trembling as she held my arm. Her unspoken but intense warning raised the hairs on the back.

"I know, Alice. I'll be very careful, okay?"

Releasing her grip on my forearm, she suddenly bounded forward and caught me in a tight hug. "I can't let anything happen to you, Isabella Swan," she whispered into my ear before releasing me. "You are far too important now."

Alice said nothing more as she escaped, rounding the corner of the hallway to her room while I stood, confused, in my bedroom doorway.

After a moment of puzzling over her strange words and actions of the last few minutes, I shrugged.

_Well, at least I was going into my meeting with James forewarned…._

_**Although I had hoped to post this chapter over the weekend, my Fan Fiction class was turning in their final drafts of their chapters/OS on Friday and Saturday, so my time has been limited. I still have to grade their final work, but I can spread it out over the week and work on it while still working on this story. My goal is to post Chapter 8 this weekend. **_

_**Thank you for reading and (I hope!) reviewing! I've been a good girl this summer about responding to reviews, and each one is like a warm hug! Thank you!**_

_**I so appreciate your kind support! :)**_

_**If you haven't already started reading ladylibre's brilliant story, "A Love Worth Defending," do so! My jaw gapes in wonder with every chapter! **_

_**Take care, my friends, and I hope to post again by this weekend! **_

_**Love,**_

_**Cassandra :)**_

_**xxxooo **_


	9. Chapter 8

_**With special thanks to my pre-readers, ladylibre at FanFiction and EmmyDana at Wattpad. And ladylibre's advice and encouragement is making this story sing—she gives the best feedback! If you haven't read her stories yet, you need to! :)**_

**Chapter 8**

After Alice's rapid departure, I readied myself for bed before pulling out some homework that was due tomorrow. I still felt unsettled, more by Alice's warning about meeting James than about our parallel experiences with Edward. Somehow I felt more at peace after our discussion because not only was I _not_ clinically insane, but Alice was also nearly as curious about Edward as I was.

And she was still holding back about Halloween, that little bugger….

So knowing the amazing accuracy of her visions regarding Edward, I felt more uneasy than ever about ignoring her warnings regarding meeting James tomorrow.

Distracted, I forced myself to tackle the class assignments, skating by with doing the bare minimum that allowed me to be adequately prepared for my Friday classes. Fortunately, my long lunch break would give me time to study for my afternoon courses, so I focused on my morning classes, managing to complete the assigned reading within two hours. Eyes heavy, I gratefully put away my books and crawled into bed.

Despite my exhaustion after all of the events and revelations of the day and evening, it took me at least an hour to fall asleep. Tossing and turning, often sitting up to pound my pillow into a more sleep-inducing shape, I huffed impatiently. I was simply unable to relax enough to sleep with different phrases from my talk with Alice cycling through my mind. While many images appeared in my mind's eye, the sweet words engraved in the pocket watch and the locket were definitely the most memorable.

Edward's parents must have loved each other greatly if his father had etched such loving and beautiful words into the locket, his wedding gift to Edward's mother.

I sighed, wishing once again for a love like that of Edward's parents and of my own parents. Losing my mom two years ago was the most traumatic event of my life, but watching my dad suffer along with her, experiencing mentally every pain that she physically felt, was heartbreaking.

My parents were made for one another—a perfect example of the truth of the old adage "opposites attract." And when my mother died, my father had died, too, in a way. They had been so different, yet their hearts had truly melded into one. Even now, when I looked into my dad's eyes, there was a dullness and emptiness there—as if half of his existence had left with my mom—that I think he will live with until he joins her again.

If such a thing were possible, that is.

And that's the kind of love I was holding out for—the kind of love that transforms lives so that even death cannot truly separate them.

_And perhaps_, I thought snarkily, that_ is why I've never dated._

I mean, who could live up such an impossible standard?

But I also refused to settle for less.

Guys in high school were so immature, plus being the police chief's daughter in a small town was a proven killjoy. The time or two in which I had attempted to date (mostly to silence Renee's persistent nudgings), Charlie had met my date at the door, rifle in hand, then insisted on sitting at the kitchen table while he cleaned the intimidating weapon while bragging about his excellent marksmanship while I finished getting ready. After these little "chats" with my father, my dates were reduced to near tears and were afraid to even speak my name, much less enjoy time with me. Renee scolded Charlie for scaring away the boys, but he usually grinned and was absolutely unrepentant. Even though I was expecting it, I was still disappointed when not a single boy braved Charlie's notorious "chats" in order to ask me to the prom.

So basically, I had no experience with boys in high school.

Obviously, I had looked forward to being able to meet guys in college once I left Forks behind, and Charlie was no longer present to scare them to death, but the two years of my mom's illness followed by her death meant that I felt little inclination to bother with dating in college—mostly because college guys demonstrated little to no improvement in maturity over high school boys. They were interested in two activities: partying and having sex with "hot" girls.

Intelligence in a girl was obviously a major drawback, as was having hair any color but blonde.

And my experience Mike had only emphasized how alike high school and college guys were. In fact, I wasn't sure if college guys weren't actually worse.

The only exceptions seemed to be my new roommates; Jasper and Emmett were in committed relationships with amazing women and possessed more sense than to try to kill off every existing brain cell with extensive drinking and drug use in the name of "partying."

_Ugh._

Despite my disgust with boys in general and college boys in particular, I finally fell asleep.

My alarm the next morning was an unwelcome intrusion, and I reluctantly dragged myself from bed and to the shower. Returning to my room dressed for class in jeans, a dark blue sweater, and ankle boots, I threw on a brown leather jacket and started gathering my things.

_Then I saw it. _

Sitting in the middle of my dresser was a small black velvet jewelry box. And I knew exactly what would be inside when I opened it.

The golden locket caught the morning sunshine perfectly, glinting and glimmering in its box.

But how had it got here?

I was positive that Alice and I had replaced it in the wooden chest last night before we shoved the heavy container against the attic wall.

The open jewelry box still in my hand, I raced up the attic stairs, pulled on the chain to illuminate the room, and moved to the chest which remained exactly where Alice and I had left it last night.

I laid the box I had just discovered in my room on the side table beside my armchair so that it would stay within my line of vision. Then kneeling in front of the wooden chest, I opened the lid. As I gently moved the quilt aside in order to view the contents beneath it, I argued with myself. Even though I logically knew that the locket couldn't possibly be inside the chest, something compelled me to look anyway.

While I had half-expected to find the locket among the precious contents of the chest, I was still a little surprised when it wasn't there. Everything Alice and I had examined last night was exactly how we had left it…except for absence of the black velvet box containing the locket, the same box that I had set on the side table within easy reach just a moment ago.

Yes, I knew that racing up here to try to find the locket in the chest was a ridiculous idea, but given how much ridiculous stuff I had already dealt with in the past week, I wasn't sure what to expect anymore. Logic seemed to have been set aside in favor of mystery as soon as I moved into this house.

But I tried to regain my hold on the real world for a moment….

_Perhaps I had dropped the box somewhere and Rosalie or Jasper had found it and put it on my dresser? _

No, that didn't work—Alice and I had not removed the locket from the attic.

Wait—_maybe Alice had taken the locket out of the chest and put it on my dresser this morning?_

Now that possibility sounded plausible.

Grabbing the velvet box encasing the locket, I returned to my room, stuffed my school things in my bookbag, and went downstairs.

Alice and Jasper were sitting at the table eating breakfast; Alice's eyes had the same lack-of-sleep heaviness to them that I had seen in my own mirror. We exchanged smiles, but I held back for a moment. I didn't feel comfortable asking Alice about the locket with Jasper here—I wanted to speak with her alone. So I slipped the velvet box into my bookbag and proceeded to make my usual tea and toast.

Fortunately, Jasper finished his meal before Alice and I did, so while he went upstairs to get a book he had forgotten, I quickly pulled out the box.

"Alice, did you put this on my dresser this morning?" I asked in a low voice.

Her eyes grew huge with understanding. "Oh, my! Edward must have done it," she exclaimed, barely suppressing a squeal of excitement. "He must want you to have his mother's locket!"

"Wow." I slumped back in my chair, finally acknowledging the truth that I had refused to consider as soon as I had spotted the box on my dresser.

"You need to wear it today," Alice stated, her expression concerned. "I don't like your meeting with James, but perhaps the locket can be your good-luck charm."

"Oh, that makes a lot of sense." My tone was mocking as I frowned at her. "And will you please stop it with the warnings about James? I can take care of myself, you know."

"I'm serious, Bella. Maybe Edward can protect you if you wear something that belongs to him."

"That seems rather far-fetched, Alice."

"Well, the fact that a ghost has a crush on you is pretty far-fetched, too, you know."

"I don't think he has 'a crush' on me."

"He most certainly cares for you. I see it in his eyes whenever he looks at you."

I rolled my eyes, reluctant to respond after she cornered me so neatly...especially because I, too, had noticed the way that he stared at me, his expression focused and intense.

"Who has a crush on Bella?" Jasper asked, walking back into the kitchen.

"She kind of has a secret admirer," Alice said quickly, coming up with a much more believable response than my barely audible "Um…."

"Very cool. Let us know when he reveals himself, okay?" He winked at me, and I felt my cheeks grow hot under his teasing gaze.

"Sh-sure," I stuttered as I quickly concealed the box from Jasper's view behind my back.

Saying goodbye, they left for the day, Alice indicating behind Jasper's back that I should wear the locket.

After they left, I slowly opened the box, drawing my finger across the locket. It was beautiful and timeless…and it would look lovely against the dark blue of my sweater. Carefully I drew it out of the box and clasped the delicate chain around my neck.

It felt like it belonged there.

As I blushed at the idea of wearing something that had belonged to Edward's mother so long ago, I again felt a cold sensation trail down my cheekbone. Shivering at his icy touch, I also couldn't help smiling shyly as I whispered, "Thank you."

-0-0-0-0-0-

My Friday classes sped by, thankfully. I tried to keep my mind off the meeting with James, and for once, my brain obeyed. It wasn't until I entered the economics classroom that a slightly nauseous feeling accosted me, and I slid into my seat silently, glad that James hadn't arrived yet.

But Lauren and Katie were here, of course, sitting in the first row where James could ogle Lauren's cleavage as was his normal practice, one that she blatantly encouraged. Once I had seated myself about halfway back, Lauren threw little sideways glances at me while speaking to Katie in a carrying stage whisper that I was obviously meant to hear.

"James is taking me to a movie premiere tonight," Lauren said smugly. "He told me to dress up and make sure my ass looks great." She giggled loudly, Katie joining her. "James said that he asked me because he wants 'appropriate arm candy for walking the red carpet.' I mean, who else would he pick?" She sent a meaningful glare in my direction.

"After the movie, James said that we're going out clubbing. And guess what?" Lauren leaned close to Katie but stated her "secret" in her loudest tone yet. "He also told me not to worry about getting home after partying; he said that he will drive me home _in the morning._" Lauren stressed the last words deliberately with a triumphant smile.

_Ew!_ was the only thought that crossed my mind. James might be handsome, but with his apparent reputation, Lauren had better protect herself from every creepy-crawly imaginable… I couldn't quite repress a shudder of disgust at the thought.

"What about the policy against TA's dating students in their classes?" Katie reminded her.

Lauren tossed her blonde hair over her shoulder. "James said not to worry—with the way I'm built, no one would take me for _only_ a college student. And after tonight, we're just going to keep our relationship a secret."

Somehow I managed not to laugh out loud at her stupidity in trying to boast to the entire class, and me in particular, about her date and plans to sleep with James while supposedly "keeping it secret."

"Some secret now, Lauren!" laughed a guy in the back row of the classroom, and everyone else, myself included, cracked up.

Tossing her hair again in her front-row-and-center seat, Lauren ignored our sniggering as she continued her bragging about their date which I thankfully managed to shut out while looking over my notes from the last economics lecture.

Well, this date with Lauren just shows how much of a slime bucket James truly was. I had seen how he treated women before this, of course, but if he wanted my help with his project, I would turn him down flat. There was no way I was assisting a TA who was dating a student in his class which was blatantly against university policy.

_In fact, given his plans for the weekend, I feel no guilt whatsoever in missing our afternoon meeting all together_, I thought, satisfied with my decision.

Nearly five minutes late, James entered the classroom rather rumpled, flustered, and out-of-breath. I grinned to myself, wondering which girl he had been with during lunch to make him arrive to class late and in such a mess.

Lauren's eyes narrowed as she took in James' appearance as he coolly began a lecture on economic theory in France. Obviously Lauren wasn't the only girl James was seeing today—she was definitely going to have to deal with some competition, and I couldn't help chuckling under my breath at her obvious jealousy.

As he gave his lecture, James smiled and flirted as usual, but I ignored him (also as usual) while Lauren, apparently forgiving him already, leaned forward in her seat to display her assets (yet also as usual).

This time I didn't bother hiding my annoyance with his little games. Fortunately, about halfway through the class, he settled down, stopped the grinning and flirting, and actually gave a decent and somewhat interesting lecture—which was _not _usual, given that I considered the study of economics the pinnacle of boredom.

As he finished his lecture and dismissed us, James called, "Miss Swan? Don't forget our appointment this afternoon."

_Drat._ Nodding curtly despite my decision to miss the meeting, I gathered my books into my bag as Lauren glared at me, her eyes flashing at James' statement that we were meeting this afternoon.

Turning her back to me, Lauren flocked up to James at the lectern and put her hand on his arm. "I'll see you tonight, James. What time are you picking me up again?" she asked breathily…and loudly. Rolling my eyes, I left the room, grinning secretly as I heard James trying to shush her after her very public announcement of their forbidden dating status.

I made my way to the philosophy classroom quickly, gratefully sliding into my seat and glad to leave James and Lauren and their little drama far, far behind. In fact, I felt quite a bit better and congratulated myself on deciding to ignore the meeting with James. _Alice will be happy, anyway_, I thought with a small smile.

As Peter finished his lecture on early medieval mysticism, he dismissed us for the weekend cheerily but seemed quite serious when he asked to see me after class. Now that I wasn't going to the appointment with James after class, I wasn't in a rush. As I approached his lectern, Peter was putting away his laptop which he had just used to display PowerPoint images to accompany his lecture.

"Come to my office, please," he invited, but he didn't look at me directly. Puzzled, I walked silently beside him into the next building, down a long hallway, and into an office barely the size of a closet. Two embattled desks were jammed face-to-face with a chair each behind for the TA and another to the side of each desk. Thankfully the other desk was unoccupied as Peter placed his messenger bag on the desk, gesturing to the wooden chair beside his desk. Warily I took the indicated seat as he plopped into the uncomfortable-looking chair behind the desk.

"Wow—I guess you know just how those medieval monks felt in the cloisters, huh?" I joked weakly, waving vaguely at the windowless room that would have been unpleasantly cramped for one TA and must have been nearly impossible for two teaching assistants to work in at the same time.

He attempted a smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I need to tell you something, Ms. Swan."

"Okay?"

Sighing, he continued reluctantly. "Earlier today I heard James Spencer bragging to another Economics TA that you are going to help him with a major project." He paused, his eyes boring into mine as if gauging the veracity of my reply. "Is this true?"

My eyebrows rose in surprise and annoyance. "We were supposed to meet this afternoon," I glanced at my watch. "Right now, in fact, to discuss what he called 'an academic proposal.'" It was my turn to be wary; after all, I didn't know if Peter was a friend of James. I chose my words carefully as I replied, "But I reconsidered earlier this afternoon and decided to skip the meeting."

Peter's expression cleared. "You made a wise decision, Bella." I noted his use of my first name as understanding began to dawn. "James Spencer is not someone to be trusted—especially in regard to women—and I feel much better knowing that you won't be working closely with him."

He paused, grinning unrepentantly. "And now I won't have to find myself on the wrong side of a mutual friend of ours—a very concerned and excitable young woman who spent all morning texting thinly-veiled threats of what could happen to me if I didn't convince you to stay away from James."

I grinned back. "And I suppose you know Alice because Jasper's also a philosophy TA?"

"Exactly. And you know how Alice is when she gets an idea in her head…."

I rolled my eyes dramatically. "I live with the girl—believe me, I'm learning fast."

"No hard feelings?" he asked, his smile fading as he became serious again.

"Not at all."

"Well, have a good weekend, Bella." Peter rose from his chair as I did—quite a gentlemanly gesture on his part—and offered me his hand. I could see immediately why he and Jasper were friends; they had a similar Southern courtliness in their manners.

Shaking his hand, I replied, "You, too, Peter. And thanks for looking out for me."

He smiled again, and I waved cheerily over my shoulder as I left his mouse hole of an office.

As I crossed campus to the parking lot, I reveled in the beauty of the autumn day. The last of the afternoon sunshine was warm on my face, and many trees around campus were reaching peak color as their leaves fluttered to the ground in swirls of gold, tangerine, and scarlet. Eagerly I breathed in the crisp air as I approached the parking lot.

My phone buzzed in my bag, and pausing at a bench, I pulled it out and swiped the front of the phone. A text from Alice greeted me.

"Glad u canceled w/ James."

I typed back, "Good news travels fast. U talk 2 Peter or "saw" it?"

Her reply was nearly instantaneous. "Both :D"

"On my way home. Need anything at the store?"

"No, ty. But Em wants to know what's 4 dinner."

I rolled my eyes; of course he does. I replied, "Tell him I'll be home soon 2 start cooking."

"K. C U soon. xx"

I smiled at Alice's "kisses" at the end of her text as I put away my phone, picked up my bag again, and entered the parking lot.

However, my enjoyment of the day and my text-conversation with Alice came abruptly to a halt—as I did as well—when I saw who was leaning against my car, obviously waiting for me.

His arms folded across his chest, James glared at me, obviously annoyed but trying to play it off as being cool.

After stopping in my tracks, I started walking again, my jaw aching from how hard I was clenching my teeth. How dare he "trap" me like this?

I actually considered turning around and taking a bus home rather than confronting the jerk, but I quickly decided not to let him scare me away.

"Going home, are we?" James asked, his voice deceptively calm, his eyes strangely cold.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I am." I tried to keep my voice confident and even.

"I thought you had an appointment."

"I decided that the appointment wasn't worth my time," I replied, my voice hard.

"And you weren't going to let the person you were meeting to know that you changed your mind?" he challenged.

"No, I wasn't. And especially not since you somehow know which car is mine—which makes me think that you're a stalker."

James took a step toward me, opening his arms in a conciliatory gesture. "Hey, you know I'm not a stalker, Bella. I just wanted to keep our meeting, and when you didn't show up…."

"You should have taken the hint," I replied coldly. "And how did you know which car was mine?"

"Aw, come on, Bella," he pleaded, but with the confidence of a good-looking guy who knew that any woman would eventually give in to him…me included.

"I don't seem to remember giving you permission to use my first name," I stated acerbically, referring to the university policy of referring to students by title and last name rather than first name.*****

"Very well then, _Ms. Swan. _I only want to discuss an academic project with you—a very important project that could benefit both of us. There's nothing wrong with that, is there?"

I didn't really have an answer for him, and his grin widened.

"Come on back to my office, and I'll fill you in."

But James' smug expression really bothered me. "I thought we were meeting at Starbucks," I reminded him.

Rolling his eyes, he reluctantly agreed and walked beside me, thankfully silently, as we returned to the campus Starbucks. James gallantly opened the heavy glass door for me, and I nodded curtly in acknowledgement as we entered.

"Do you want anything to drink?" he asked.

"No, thanks. I need to get home, so let's not waste time." I frowned as I found an unoccupied table and slipped into a chair.

He seated himself across from me and gave me his most winning smile.

_Uh oh_, I thought. _Now it begins._

Steepling his fingers, he gave me an intensely searching look that I think he meant to be daunting. But I refused to break his gaze as he intended me to do; instead, I assessed him myself.

James Spencer was definitely good-looking, with pale gray eyes in a tan face, light scruff softening his jawline. If he had lived in California, I would have immediately classed him as a surfer…but without the mellow vibe. His intensity was belied by his ash-blond hair which was pulled back from his angular face in a ponytail. Probably four or five years older than I was, he managed to look professional enough to teach, yet he retained a modern style that obviously made him a popular target for the girls in his classes. Today he was wearing well-worn jeans and black boots combined with a black dress shirt open at the neck and a charcoal leather jacket.

Yes, indeed—James was good-looking; in fact, any girl—and probably most guys—would admit that objective truth.

The problem was that he definitely knew how attractive he was—and he used it to his advantage. However, this kind of manipulative behavior automatically made James far less attractive in my eyes. Perhaps because I was immune to his charms, a strange confidence that I felt with few other people filled me as I assessed him.

My mouth twisted into a slight smirk as we both stared at each other, he measuring me just as I did him.

Out of nowhere, he let out a bark of laughter, and I smiled in satisfaction, fairly certain that I had passed whatever test he had just subjected me to.

"All right then, Ms. Swan. I have to admit, you're not quite what I had expected," he chuckled ruefully, rubbing his jaw thoughtfully.

I raised my eyebrow at him, a little irked at his apparent expectations of me. "Did you think I'd wilt under your rude scrutiny, Mr. Spencer?" I asked with sweet sarcasm.

"Yes, something like that," he admitted in a low voice, dropping his eyes to the table between us. "As I said, you're not at all what I expected."

"I apologize for not being a shrinking violet or a crazed fangirl," I scoffed. "Do all of the girls you meet with simply melt into a pile of goo when you scrutinize them?" I shook my head in a mockery of deep sorrow. "I must be such a disappointment to you. Unfortunately, now you don't have some nervous, worshipful co-ed to escort back to your apartment tonight. _Oh wait_—you _do_ have other plans for tonight, don't you? Lauren will be _so_ pleased to know that she has no competition…for tonight, anyway."

James' head jerked up, and I was surprised to see a flash of anger in his pale gray eyes followed by what seemed to be…sadness. "No, you did not disappoint me…quite the opposite, in fact, Ms. Swan," he said quietly.

His abrupt change in manner was not what I had expected during this encounter. Shielding myself behind my dislike for him, I had managed to remain detached by his flirtatious manner in class and his frequent use of deft sarcasm to shame students who weren't up to his rigorous standards. In this meeting, I had expected him to be cocky, coming onto me and assuming that I would be incredulously flattered by his personal attention—all of which I found extremely annoying.

There was something about James Spencer that I didn't trust, but I couldn't put my finger on it. I had prepared to be guarded, sarcastic, and cutting, hoping to burst his substantial male ego-bubble and be on my merry way.

But the fact that I had shattered his expectations and perhaps hurt him in some way disarmed me slightly, causing me to lower my defenses.

But I couldn't allow him any leeway…not now. And never again.

_It was far, far too dangerous._

Scrabbling about mentally to gather my thoughts and put some emotional distance between us, I lifted my chin imperiously as I regarded him through what I hoped was an effective mask concealing my confusion.

"Was there a specific reason you requested my presence, Mr. Spencer?" I asked, raising my eyebrow again.  
Shaking his head as if to clear his wayward thoughts, James pulled a folder from his expensive messenger bag. Opening the folder, he pulled out a single page and handed it to me. "Take a look," he said quietly.

A quick glance down the page revealed a printed e-mail which was forwarded from the Economics chairperson, Dr. Suzanne Phelps, to all the professors in the department.

Slowing down, I read the e-mail carefully to absorb all of the details. _The International Review of Economics Education__******_, a highly-regarded academic journal dedicated to the teaching of economics at the high school and university levels, had issued a call for papers from teaching faculty.

Dr. Whitman, whose class James was teaching, had forwarded the announcement personally to James, advising him to

"…find an appropriate undergraduate student with which to co-author a paper for this journal. Being published in a journal of this caliber will greatly assist you in securing a faculty position after you receive your PhD. Please let me know if you find a viable candidate and bring him/her to my office to discuss the project.

-Henry"

As I finished reading the e-mail, I shrugged my shoulders. "Looks like a great opportunity. But why are you telling me about it?"

"Because I think you'd be the perfect student to co-write the paper with me," he stated, watching me carefully for a reaction.

I couldn't stop myself—I burst out laughing, both at James and at the situation, right in the middle of Starbucks.

As I was finally starting to calm my ungracious hoots, I noticed a familiar face glaring at me from behind the cash register, and my laughter came to an abrupt halt.

_Shit—this was the Starbucks where Jessica worked. _I was definitely going to regret meeting with James here where Jessica could witness us—and do who-knows-what with the information.

At this point, I glanced at James who had definitely noticed the reason for the sudden end of my laughter with a frown of disapproval.

"See?" I asked, subdued by the knowledge that Jessica was watching us. "I'm definitely the wrong person to help you write a paper, James. Seriously? I can barely stand the subject, and I'm not doing all that well in your class. Economics is my least favorite class, and I can't imagine any topic more dismal to write about." I handed him back the e-mail and stood, gathering my things in preparation to leave.

"Wait, Ms. Swan!" James called so loudly that several patrons turned to stare at him. Taking a deep breath to get his emotions under control—I could tell that my little anti-economics tirade had annoyed him—he motioned to the chair I had just vacated.

Sighing, I sat back down reluctantly.

James looked at me evenly. "I can tell you don't care much for the subject, but your opinion of economics will be an advantage in co-writing this essay."

I didn't do a good job of hiding my shock. "Okay…." I hedged, trying to come up with another excuse…and failing at the moment.

"The point of this paper is to demonstrate strategies for teaching reluctant students, especially in teaching students taking economics for general education who have little to no interest in the subject. Plus," he continued smoothly, "as you are a literature major, you will definitely write well, and co-authoring an essay for such a prestigious journal, even though it is outside your area of study, will help you greatly if you apply to graduate schools." James paused, and then asked with a smile, "Have you considered continuing your education, Ms. Swan?"

I nodded, admitting, "The thought has crossed my mind."

"Well, there you go," he stated, obviously pleased with his arguments.

I wasn't so sure about working with James. Something about him bothered me, and although I couldn't articulate it, I also refused to dismiss it. My gut reactions were usually pretty accurate; I cringed when I thought back to ignoring a similar feeling when meeting with Jessica about the roommate situation.

Yes, disregarding my first impressions had not served me well in the past, and I would only agree with this arrangement after thinking it over carefully; I would not be rushed.

"I will consider your proposal and let you know my decision soon," I stated noncommittally.

James' satisfied grin faded. "The deadline for submission of this paper is only six weeks away, so we don't have much time," he reminded me, apparently annoyed at my reluctance.

"I understand," I replied coolly. "I'll let you know by Monday at the latest."

"How about tomorrow?" he suggested quickly.

He was getting on my nerves already.

"Maybe tomorrow, but probably Monday."

"I guess I don't have much choice," he grumbled ungraciously.

"No, you don't," I agreed sweetly. Standing up and tossing my backpack over my shoulder, I advised, "Perhaps you ought to line up a couple more literature majors who write well but hate economics in case I can't help you."

I heard him cursing under his breath at my snarky suggestion as I turned on my heel and started walking toward the exit, concealing my grin of satisfaction.

"Wait a second, Ms. Swan!"

Sighing dramatically, I turned back to face him. James had jumped up from his chair and was right behind me, so when I turned, I practically barreled into him. To keep us both from falling, he grasped my upper arms with both hands, steadying me.

"Thanks," I muttered ungraciously.

"Oh, and one more thing," he said softly, still holding me close to him, our chests nearly touching. "Although students are instructed to call TA's by their first names," he stated, his eyes serious behind his smile, "while TA's have to refer to students by their last names, I would appreciate permission to call you by your first name since we will be working together."

"Don't you mean '_may_ be working together'? I haven't agreed to your proposal yet."

"Whatever," he grinned down at me.

"Only when we're working outside of class, right?"

"Of course," he amended quickly, his smile disappearing. "In class you'll remain 'Ms. Swan' as usual," he finished stiffly.

I considered for a moment, and then decided that this familiarity really couldn't do much harm. "Okay," I agreed.

"Thank you, Isabella," he answered softly.

"I prefer 'Bella,' thanks," I corrected him, frowning.

He leaned forward, whispering in my ear, "Well, I prefer 'Isabella'—it's the name of queens. Did you know that 'Isabella' is a variant of the popular name 'Elizabeth' which means 'oath of God'?"

"N-no, I didn't," I stammered, unnerved by having James' proximity to me as well as his gentle tone. I could feel a blush warming my face as I looked down, trying to escape his gaze.

"So, Isabella it is," he stated firmly, and I could tell that no matter how much I argued, I would be 'Isabella' whether I liked it or not.

"Fine," I muttered, stepping back out of his embrace and looking at my watch. "I need to get home." As I moved to the exit, James sped around me so that he could open the door—a gentlemanly gesture that I hadn't expecting from him. I walked through the door and hurriedly toward the parking lot.

"Call me, Isabella!" he shouted, his voice carrying across the quad. Angered by his public display, I spun around, only to see him still holding the glass door open, and behind him stood an utterly shocked Jessica, her eyes huge, her mouth gaping.

I couldn't help but feel a little vengeful satisfaction at her reaction—she was obviously shocked by James practically begging me to call him.

And James' wink as he released the door revealed that he had known exactly what he was doing in helping me wreak a little revenge.

And a guy who would help a girl with a little payback couldn't be all bad, now, could he?

_**A/N: Well, I'm sorry for not updating as soon as I wanted to, but this chapter is nearly 6000 words long, my longest thus far. I've decided to post longer chapters every other week rather than short chapters every week—my readers at Wattpad were almost unanimous in their preference for longer chapters, even if it meant updating every 2-3 weeks. **_

_***The policy of calling students by "Mr." or "Ms." (called "honorifics") plus their last name has become policy at some high schools although not in colleges. I just felt that I needed that line between formality and informality to be stressed throughout this story, so I included The University of Chicago in this policy although no such policy actually exists at that university. **_

_****There is a journal called **_**The International Review of Economics Education**_** although I have invented the call for papers on the subject of teaching economics to students outside of the econ major. **_

_**Our 17**__**th**__** year of home education begins on the 26**__**th**__** of August, but I still hope to post chapters every other week during the school year. I have a busy year ahead of me with three online courses to teach this fall, high school Expository Essay courses to teach at our homeschool group's Class Days, plus our two boys to teach at home in grades 8 and 11. Thankfully we have an excellent mathematics tutor, and our boys take science labs (general science and chemistry this year) and PE classes at Class Day (twice monthly); I teach the rest. :)**_

_**I'm sorry for not responding to the reviews for Chapter 7. We've had health problems with three of our four kids, plus my own health crisis of sorts. But I read every review and file them away for future reference. Thanks for reading and reviewing! :) Your comments mean the world to me! **_

_**Warmly,**_

_**Cassandra :)**_

_**xxxooo**_


	10. Chapter 9

_**With heartfelt thanks to my talented pre-reader, ladylibre, whose insights and commentary help me to shape this story, chapter by chapter. If you aren't reading her incredible "A Love Worth Defending," go read it! You heard me…**__**go**__**! :) **_

**Chapter 9**

I was not surprised to be met at the front door by an incensed pixie. Despite my attempts to ignore her as I dragged myself upstairs to put my bookbag away, Alice remained a mere step behind me, following me into my room.

"Okay, let's hear it," I said wearily as I set down my bookbag, took off my jacket, and plopped onto my bed to remove my boots.

"Why didn't you listen?" Alice wailed. "I told you—and Peter told you—not to have anything to do with James!" Her angry expression melted suddenly, a profound sadness taking its place. "Bella, you need to listen to me on this one. Please."

Surprised by her sudden mood swing, I looked up at her as I pulled on my comfy sheepskin slippers. "What are you 'seeing,' Alice?" I asked, puzzled.

Plopping down on the bed beside me, she sighed. "I'm not 'seeing' anything specific; I just get this strong feeling of dread whenever I think of you working with him." She frowned in concentration before continuing. "But the problem is…now that you've met with him, I also get an almost equally strong feeling of dread if you turn down his offer."

"Wow," I breathed. "Talk about a no-win situation."

"Yeah," she sighed again. "Your meeting with him this afternoon really messed up the situation. I'm not sure that there's a way out of it now. It's kind of a 'damned if you do; damned if you don't' thing now."

I laughed, but it sounded forced and awkward even to me. "I hope you don't mean 'damned' literally, Alice."

She narrowed her eyes, obviously not amused. "I'm not joking, Bella. You've really complicated the situation here. If only you had walked away…."

I snorted. "It's kind of difficult to walk away when the guy was leaning up against my car, waiting for me in the parking lot."

Alice's eyes grew huge. "No way!"

"Yes, way…unfortunately. I guess you didn't 'see' that part." She shook her head, and I continued. "He wanted me to go back to his office, but I made him stick with our agreed-on meeting place, Starbucks. In public."

"Good girl."

Exhausted after the events of the afternoon, I leaned my head on my hand. "Alice, the thing is, it's a really amazing opportunity, especially if I want to go to graduate school. To be published in such a major journal—it's a really tempting offer. And I have a feeling that I could ask for a stipend, too. Some money would really help, you know."

"I know, Bella. And it sounds like a wonderful chance for you. But it's weird, too. Before you and James met, I was getting only negative feelings—extremely negative feelings—about you working with him. And now after the meeting—and the longer it's been since the meeting—I'm getting more mixed feelings. Kind of like something positive could come out of it, but it's also going to be a difficult and challenging time for you—and for him as well." She paused, looking at me with a confused expression. "It's almost like you somehow caused a major shift in his mind."

"That's weird," I shrugged. "But enough about James—I need to get dinner going."

-0-0-0-0-0-

While I made dinner and as I washed the dishes, I continued mulling over the pros and cons of helping James with this project.

As I scrubbed a large pot, I kept thinking back to James' attitude. He started off cocky and annoying—flirtatious as usual. But as our meeting progressed, I had the strangest feeling that I had hurt his feelings, somehow—that he was truly vulnerable.

The more I thought about it, the more it seemed that I had glimpsed a side of James this afternoon that few others had seen. And after receiving that insight, I felt that somehow I could trust him…at least enough to work together on the project.

And I definitely had some follow-up questions for him, such as: What did he want me to do, exactly? Would I be interviewing students who hated economics? And how many hours a week would we be dedicating to the project?

Plus, I really needed to get a job, something that, due to all the drama of living with Jessica and then moving here, I had put off. If a stipend were included with the project—enough money to see me through the holidays—accepting James' proposal to work together could be a Godsend.

As I finished drying the dishes and wiping down the kitchen counters, Rose and Emmett took off for their Friday night date—obviously a tradition with them. I was glad that they were getting out for at least one evening of fun a week because those two seriously studied way too hard. Once again I was thankful not to be a pre-med student; their workload was far too strenuous.

Once the kitchen was tidy, I poured a glass of Pinot Noir and, noting the coolness of the evening, settled in front of the fireplace in which Jasper had built a lovely blaze before dinner. But the embers were now dying, so I stirred them up and added a couple more logs to the fire which caught quickly. I settled into a corner of the leather sofa and tucked an afghan around me, content to relax a little, enjoy the warmth of the fire, and sip my wine.

Just as I started becoming so relaxed that I was in danger of nodding off, Jasper and Alice came downstairs, dressed for a party. Although Alice pressed me to come with them, I demurred. A quiet evening at home was just what I needed after a stressful week, and Jasper graciously swept a still-protesting Alice out the door with him, winking significantly at me as he shut the front door behind them.

Except for the crackling of the fire and the occasional whoosh of the wind around the eaves, the house was perfectly quiet, and I reveled in the unaccustomed peace. Finishing my wine, I got up, took a copy of _A Tale of Two Cities_ from the bookcase, refilled my wine glass, and added one more log to the fire before curling back into my comfy corner.

Contently I opened the book and started re-reading my favorite Dickens novel: "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times…" began the tale of the French Revolution and the love of two men for the same woman. The story was rich and tragic, perfect for reading on a quiet autumn evening.

But after the stress of the past week, the effects of the red wine, combined with the warmth of the fire and the soporific words of Dickens, lulled me into a doze.

Immediately I fell into a bizarrely familiar dream. Once again I was not myself but someone else…someone tall, slim, and strong. And once again I approached a sleeping girl, but this time she was curled up on a sofa. Yet this girl was wonderfully familiar; she had the same tousled brown curls, the same porcelain skin dotted with a few freckles across her nose as the one I have been watching since her arrival. I felt such tenderness toward this girl…as if I would protect her at all costs, no matter what the future may hold for us both.

Silently I moved to her side as she slept on the leather sofa before the fire, an open book in her lap and a wine glass tipping precariously in her hand, threatening to spill the last inch of red liquid across the afghan she had spread over her lap. I reached forward slowly, afraid to waken my slumbering angel, and gently removed the stem of the glass from her loose grasp, setting it on the end table beside her.

As I straightened, I noticed a very familiar object catch the firelight as her deep blue sweater rose and fell with each breath: my mother's locket.

Much of my existence was confusing—living outside of time and space was disconcerting to say the least—and memories of my earthly life mingled with glimpses of the different people who had lived in my house over the decades or however long it has been since the epidemic. But somehow my experiences with this girl were so much sharper than anything else from my past, and I recalled recently bringing the locket downstairs and placing it in her room, hoping against hope that she would wear it.

And she had indeed.

An unexpected thrill had shot through me as she had clasped the delicate chain around her neck, the heart-shaped locket glowing in the morning sun against the blue of her sweater—the same sweater she wore now. So I suppose that I had given her the locket just this morning. Time moved in strange fits and starts, and I was never sure of the passage of hours, days, months, years.

Yet I was certain of this one thing: I couldn't remember ever being so happy—either before or after my transition to eternity. In fact, when she had donned the locket, I simply couldn't resist caressing her smiling face gently with the back of my index finger. Her expression of wonder had assured me that she had felt my touch, and her whispered, "Thank you" had brought me to an even higher state of joyfulness.

Despite all that separated us, we possessed a compelling soul-to-soul connection that overcame space, time…and even death.

At this moment, hope, happiness, and a complete sense of contentment filled me. As I gazed longingly at this lovely girl, I felt almost hypnotized by her beauty and her kind and gentle spirit. She was a good person: unselfish, honest, and generous. I had always been able to discern the temperament—and sometimes nearly the private thoughts—of people with whom I came into contact. I could sense when someone was evil or greedy as well as when someone loved others deeply and truly. My mother had been perceptive about people as well, so at least someone in my family understood the significance of having such personal insights into others' minds and souls—and the repercussions that accompanied this level of astuteness. Such acute sensitivity to the vagaries of human nature has been both burden and blessing.

And this girl—she was good and pure—and somewhat insightful herself. I knew that we would understand each other well…if we were able to get to know one another.

And that decision would be up to her.

I was unsure how long I watched her sleep, for time had little meaning to me at the best of times, and it possessed even less significance when I was wrapped in the blissful cocoon of her presence. At one point I peered at the book in her lap, smiling at her choice of Dickens, a favorite of mine as well.

The metallic closing of car doors in the driveway reminded me that I could not remain here all night—not that anyone but this girl and her tiny, dark-haired friend could apparently sense me in my present state. The murmur of voices outside prompted me to lean forward and press my cold lips to my angel's warm forehead—my living angel, one so precious to me already. Before the front door opened, I had retreated to the attic where I could listen to my angel…and later watch over her as she slept in my bedroom.

I wasn't sure what I was supposed to be protecting her from; I only knew that she needed me, and I definitely needed her…wanted her…and loved her….

-0-0-0-0-0-

The slamming of the front door and the echo of Rose's laughter startled me out of my dream, and, immediately myself once again, I sat up abruptly, my copy of Dickens tumbling to the floor.

"Oh, we're sorry, Bella. We didn't mean to wake you," Rose apologized as she and Emmett entered the living room.

"No, that's okay," I answered thickly, rubbing my eyes. "I guess I was more tired than I thought."

"Not going out tonight, eh, Bella?" Emmett asked, grinning at me as he plopped into the opposite corner of the sofa.

"Nope," I yawned, stretching.

"I'm going to change out of these heels; I'll be down in a minute," Rose promised. "Maybe we can watch a DVD together."

"Sure," I agreed, smiling.

As Rose went upstairs, I closed my book and set it next to my wine glass on the end table.

_Wait a minute…._

In my dream, I had been someone else who picked up the wine glass before the girl—who was obviously me—spilled it. An inch of Pinot Noir remained in the glass, just as my dream had shown.

"Bella? You okay?" Emmett asked.

I tried to focus on his words while my mind spiraled, trying to figure out what had occurred while I slept.

"Yeah, I guess. Why do you ask?"

"You went completely pale…like you had seen a ghost."

At the word "ghost," I literally jumped, feeling my eyes widening with fear as I stared at Emmett.

"Bella? Bella, you're scaring me, girl! What's going on?" Emmett was kneeling in front of me, and I didn't remember him moving from the far corner of the sofa. "Bella? Answer me!" His tone was urgent.

As I opened my mouth to reply—although I had no idea what to say—Rose came down the stairs dressed in sweats and thick woolen socks. "What's wrong?" she asked, seeing Emmett kneeling in front of me, both of my hands wrapped in his huge ones.

I shook my head, trying to regain some semblance of coherency as my head spun sickeningly.

Thankfully Emmett answered Rose for me, "She just went white as a sheet, jumped a mile high, and has been staring straight ahead, but like she isn't seeing me. She's kind of freaking me out."

I was vaguely aware of Rose sitting beside me and gently removing one of my hands from Emmett's huge paws. She pressed her fingers to my wrist while watching the mantel clock above the fireplace. "Your pulse is racing, Bella. Try breathing more slowly—you're starting to hyperventilate."

Placing my hand on my chest, I felt it rising and falling far too quickly with my rapid, shallow breaths, plus my heart was pounding almost painfully.

"Here, breathe with me, Bella," Emmett ordered. He took in a slow, deep breath, and then exhaled, counting to ten as he did so. I followed his lead, inhaling and exhaling to his count, and as my breathing gradually normalized, so did my heart rate.

"There you go," he encouraged with a smile. "Feeling better now?"

I nodded. "It's nice to have med students in the house."

"What started all this?" Rose asked, frowning.

"I woke up out of a weird dream and wasn't sure what was real," I answered truthfully.

"Okay—I can understand that," Rose said, but she was watching me with an intensity that put me slightly on edge. "How about that movie?"

Grateful that she changed the subject, the three of us discussed which movie we'd watch.

"We're not watching chick flicks ladies. I don't care if I'm outvoted," Emmett declared.

Rose wrinkled her nose in apparent disgust. "You know I hate most of those movies anyway."

"A few of them are good—I love _Clueless _and _The Princess Bride," _I argued.

"Those aren't chick flicks; those are spoofs," corrected Emmett. "Chick flicks are all romance-y and make girls cry. I won't get near anything based on Nicholas Sparks."

"Ew," Rose shivered dramatically.

"Agreed," I laughed.

"I'm in the mood for something scary. How about _Paranormal Activity_?" Emmett suggested. I felt my expression freeze and felt Rose's eyes on me again.

"No, not tonight," she said lightly, and I hadn't noticed until she spoke that I had been holding my breath…which I let out in a whoosh and forced myself to breathe normally again.

"Hey, how about _Alice in Wonderland_ with Johnny Depp?"

We decided that Emmett's idea was a good one. Rising quickly, I went to the kitchen, Rose on my heels as Emmett set up the DVD player and surround sound system. I decided to make popcorn with real butter while Rose got out the milk and chocolate syrup for cocoa.

"Bella, are you really okay?" she asked me casually.

I took a deep breath. I didn't want to lie to Rose, but I also didn't feel comfortable talking to her about Edward, either.

"Yeah," I answered slowly, shaking the covered pan over the burner as the corn started popping in the hot olive oil. "That dream was really strange—like I wasn't myself but could see myself. It really scared me—and I woke out of it suddenly when you guys came in."

"Sorry," she apologized again, and I waved her off.

"No problem," I smiled, glad that I was able to tell her the truth without revealing that I had seen myself through Edward's eyes…_again_…which I would definitely discuss with Alice as soon as I could.

A few moments later, we returned to the living room with bowls of buttered popcorn and mugs of cocoa with whipped cream. Emmett flicked the remote, and we were whisked away to Wonderland with Alice.

The movie finished well after midnight, so we sleepily bade each other goodnight. While Em and Rose went up to her room, I gathered the bowls and mugs and put them in the kitchen sink to soak. Although Alice and Jasper weren't home yet, I locked up downstairs before climbing the stairs to my room.

Turning toward my dresser, I took off my watch and set it on top of my jewelry box as usual. Then, as I looked in the mirror, I saw the locket around my neck glimmer in the muted light of my bedside lamp. Carefully I unclasped the chain and placed it back in its velvet box for safekeeping.

Although I wasn't sure how, I felt that wearing the locket had a huge impact on my day. I left the box open on my dresser so that I would still be able to see the golden heart from my bed. Just knowing that it was in my line of sight was a comforting thought.

Gathering my pajamas, I went across the hallway to finish getting ready for bed, and when I returned to my room, I crawled into bed and fell asleep almost immediately.

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Alice and Jasper were seen very little over the weekend. Apparently Alice had a great deal of shopping to do for the Halloween party next Saturday night, and when she wasn't emptying store shelves, she was holed up in her room, her sewing machine whirring day and night. No one but Jasper was allowed in their room as she wanted to surprise us with our costumes, and even he was kicked out (after being sworn to absolute secrecy) for a few hours as she worked on his costume.

It was a quiet weekend. As autumn rains fell steadily outside, I reluctantly decided that it was too cold to study in the attic. Instead, I curled up in front of the roaring fire, bundled in afghans to stay warm. Rose kept the kettle on so that we could make tea or instant cocoa on demand, and she and Emmett often joined me in the living room to study. Frequently the only sounds were the rain falling outside, the fire crackling inside, and the tapping of keyboards and the turning of pages as we worked. I made savory soups with homemade biscuits or muffins for dinners, followed by warm apple crumble for dessert.

Emmett and Jasper claimed that they were keeping me as a roommate/cook _forever_…even after they married their girls. I guess they _really_ loved the apple crumble. While I laughed at their silliness, I also took their compliments to heart. It was lovely to know that I was contributing to everyone's comfort as I cooked and cleaned.

But while I studied, James' proposal continued simmering on the back burner of my mind. As I chopped onions and peppers for black bean soup, I mulled over the pros and cons of accepting his offer. If the project was accepted for publication, I would be assured entry into practically any graduate program I desired. But working with James meant dealing not only with his womanizing ways but also with the continued fallout due to Lauren and Jessica…which would definitely add to my stress this semester.

However, if a stipend were involved, I doubted that I could refuse such an offer…especially if the stipend were generous enough so that my dad wouldn't have to pay my tuition for at least the second semester. Although he denied it, I knew that Charlie was dipping into his retirement fund to pay my college costs. However, if I did really well this year, I could possibly get a research assistantship in my senior year which would pay for nearly all of my tuition, and my federal grants would cover my living expenses as they did this year.

Plans kept rolling through my mind as I considered all the pluses and minuses of James' offer. But each time I thought over all of the information I had been given, the positives seemed to outweigh the negatives.

Sunday night rolled around with no time to discuss my dream Friday night with Alice. Every time I knocked on her locked door this weekend, I was shooed away…even when I mentioned something about wanting to talk about "new developments regarding the person who gave me the locket." She was immersed in costumes, and there was no talking to her while she was in such a frenzy. Even Jasper was steering clear of the mayhem, escaping to the campus library for most of Sunday.

In a way, though, I was also glad that Alice didn't have time to talk because I was leaning toward accepting James' offer, and I didn't want her to talk me out of it. After mulling the situation over all weekend, I had come to a decision. If an adequate stipend from the department was involved and if I saw an actual change in James' character on Monday, I would accept his proposal. The vulnerability I had glimpsed beneath his womanizing persona made me think that I could work with him well enough…despite Alice's and Peter's warnings.

I had not experienced anything further from Edward all weekend, either…which made me feel anxious and relieved at the same time. I definitely had to study all weekend, so perhaps it was better that I hadn't experienced anything odd besides sleeping more soundly than usual. Perhaps it was something about this house that brought me such deep and restful slumber…or maybe it was just relief at escaping Jessica and her drama queen tendencies…or perhaps it was Edward's presence that helped me to sleep so well.

I definitely preferred the last reason…although I barely admitted it to myself.

I awoke on Monday morning feeling well-rested and ready to tackle my day. With all the preparations ahead of us for the Halloween party on Saturday, this week would be crazy, but keeping busy was a good thing in my opinion.

When I went downstairs to make my tea and toast, Alice and Jasper were sipping coffee and enjoying the cranberry scones I had baked yesterday. As I seated myself at the table with my breakfast, I couldn't miss the sad expression, complete with impressive puppy-dog eyes, that Alice was sending my way.

"What is it, Alice?" I asked, taking a large bite of toast and jam.

Her bottom lip jutted out even further, and Jasper disguised a snort of laughter as a cough behind his coffee mug, ignoring her warning glare.

"You know why," Alice stated. "You're going to work with James despite all that Peter and I have told you."

I put down my teacup so abruptly that it rattled loudly against the saucer. "Alice, I need a job anyway, and if this project involves a stipend, I'm going to take it." I took a breath. "And I have a feeling that James isn't as horrible as you think he is."

Alice sighed. "Yeah, I've been getting that feeling all weekend, too," she admitted. The she narrowed her eyes at me. "But I still don't think that working closely with James is a good idea."

Noticing the time, I gulped the rest of my tea and carried my dishes to the sink. "I know, Alice. And I haven't completely decided yet. I have some questions for James, and I want to see how he acts today. But I'm seriously considering working on this project. If there's a stipend, if it can help me get into a good graduate school, and if it can help me get a research assistantship here and perhaps in grad school as well, I think it will be worth dealing with James and his womanizing."

Jasper gave me a long look, and then nodded in agreement. Turning to Alice, he said, "Allie, Bella's thought this over carefully, and she has good reasons for doing this project. We all know that James is a jerk, but he's not dangerous—just damn annoying. And if Bella thinks that the positive aspects of this project outweigh the only negative of having to work with James, then we need to support her."

"Thanks, Jasper," I said, smiling. I appreciated his calm manner and logical approach which balanced Alice's emotional exuberance.

Alice cleared their breakfast things, too, and then gave me a hug. As she released me, she smiled…but the smile didn't quite reach her eyes. "I trust you, Bella, and if you decide to do this project with James, then we'll definitely have your back."

"Thanks, Alice. I really appreciate that."

"I'm still going to worry about you, though," she reminded me.

I laughed, Jasper joining me. "So noted," I said seriously, recognizing the concern behind her smile.

We walked out to our cars together, and I followed Jasper's truck to campus, parking next to him.

Waving goodbye, we separated to go to our classes.

My classes were fine all day until I entered economics…where I was expecting some drama given Lauren's and James' "big date" on Friday night which I was sure she would describe in great detail for the benefit of the class…and to supposedly make me jealous.

Really, it just made me disgusted…with her and definitely with him.

As I took my accustomed seat halfway back in the large auditorium-like classroom, I was surprised to see Lauren angry rather than exultant as she whispered to Katie. And this time, she kept her voice low enough that her words didn't carry.

Although I was puzzled by her actions, I was far more grateful to not be the target of her bragging…plus the less I knew about James' private life, the better, especially if we were going to work together on this project.

As I got out my laptop and book, I didn't notice that Lauren had moved to stand directly in front of my seat. Towering over me, she leaned her palms onto my desk, her face distorted with fury.

"What the hell did you say to him?" she hissed.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I protested, shocked at her aggressive manner.

"Yes, you do, you sneaky little bitch! First you go after Mike, and now James. You're a little slut, stealing everyone else's boyfriends!"

Yes, I had been daunted by Jessica's accusations because I partially blamed myself for what happened, but I knew very well that I had nothing to do with James.

And Lauren's assumptions really pissed me off.

Not only was I on my feet before I knew it, I was in Lauren's face, forcing her step back awkwardly. "Lauren, I have no idea what you're going on about, but I assure you that I had nothing to do with anything James did or didn't do. You had the date with him, plus the after-date plans that you so kindly shared with us last week. So why are you in my face about it?"

Lauren seemed a little confused by my response, but continued her diatribe anyway. "Jessica saw you with him at Starbucks Friday afternoon. Then as soon as you left, Jessica watched him call me from right outside—to cancel our date!" she retorted, her face reddening with anger.

I blinked, surprised. "He canceled? Really?"

"Yes, he did. And you made him do it, you little bitch!" Lauren stepped forward as if to push or strike me, but she came to a halt as a cold voice carried loudly through the classroom.

"What is going on here, ladies?" James' question stopped Lauren's movement toward me, and I almost dropped into my seat with relief. I really didn't need to get hurt today, and I blessed James' perfect timing.

"Lauren?" By this point, James was standing with us, subtly angling his body between us to protect me from further attempted attacks.

But Lauren, either too angry or too stupid to realize the hole she was digging for herself, hissed at him. "I know that _she_," Lauren jabbed a talon-like fingernail in my direction, "somehow made you cancel our date for Friday night. This is what she does, and everyone knows it. She's too much of a loser to find her own boyfriend, so she tries to steal ours. She's just a little—"

"First of all," James interrupted smoothly before Lauren could call me a bitch (again), his voice detached and formal, "I would rather not discuss my personal life in front of your classmates, but since you have chosen a public venue, you will have to bear the consequences, Lauren." His voice became coldly accusatory. "And since when does asking you out on _one_ date—_one date only_—qualify me as your 'boyfriend'?"

Lauren gasped as he continued, unrelenting. "Furthermore, Isabella did not discuss my date with you during our meeting on Friday afternoon; we met to discuss a purely academic subject. Therefore, I advise you to return to your seat and not become involved in matters that do not concern you."

Blushing furiously, I slipped into my seat as James strode to the podium at the front of the classroom. As he turned to face us, his cold fury was nearly palpable as he glared at Lauren who remained standing beside my desk, white-faced with disbelief. After a long moment, she tossed her hair over her shoulder, stomped to her seat, grabbed her things, and left the classroom, her face cherry-red with embarrassment as she slammed the door shut behind her. We could hear the echo of her designer heels click-clacking angrily down the hall.

His expression deceptively calm, James quietly addressed the students. "I apologize for taking class time to settle a personal matter, and I assure you that it will not happen again. Let's get started, shall we?"

As James lectured on European practical economics, I took copious notes as was my habit. However, the class remained quiet and tense, the usual teasing banter between James and the students absent. He remained businesslike, even formal—which was very unlike his normally relaxed and humorous teaching style.

With fifteen minutes left before the end of class, James checked his watch. "I'd rather wait until Wednesday to start the intricacies of Keynesian economic theory," he stated. "So I'll release you early. Expect a quiz later this week on the assigned chapters."

Ignoring the moans of my classmates at this last news and tucking the threat of a pop quiz into my memory, I stood up to slip my laptop back into my bag and gathered my things; with an extra fifteen minutes at least I wouldn't have to rush to philosophy as usual this afternoon. Perhaps I could stop by and get some tea at Starbucks on my way….

"Ms. Swan, may I see you for a moment?" I groaned audibly as James' voice echoed through the half-full room as the students exited, rejoicing in being released early.

Without replying, I hiked my bookbag onto my shoulder and approached the lectern where James was putting away his own things. "Could we meet in my office for a few minutes, please?" he asked politely. "We have some matters to discuss, and I'd rather not do so in public."

"Of course," I agreed quietly. "But I have class in twenty minutes, and it's all the way across campus."

"It will only take a few minutes, and I'll write you a note if necessary."

Nodding, I followed him down the hall to a room much larger than Peter's TA office, but this room was cluttered with over half a dozen desks, so a lot of TA's must share this cramped space. Two of the desks were occupied by people who were obviously grading papers.

Ignoring the others, he led me to a messy desk in the far corner. "Have a seat," he nodded toward a rickety wooden chair beside the desk.

After I sat down, he took the uncomfortable-looking chair behind the desk. Wasting no time, James asked, "So have you decided?"

His serious demeanor puzzled me a bit; the usually teasing and flirtatious James hadn't cracked a smile during class or afterward.

"I'm leaning in a particular direction, but I have a few questions first."

"Go ahead."

I asked about the hours involved, and he assured me that we'd be working ten to fifteen hours per week—which was ideal for me. When I inquired about the possibility of receiving a stipend, the corner of his mouth twitched in amusement.

Reaching into his overflowing inbox, he withdrew a manila folder. Opening it, he removed a single sheet of paper topped with the university's logo and handed it to me.

Glancing over the letter, I saw that the economic department was indeed offering me a modest research stipend. "I thought you might need it, so I put in the request" James admitted slowly, not looking at me. "The department is willing to pay you ten dollars per hour for a minimum of ten hours and a maximum of fifteen hours a week. Is that acceptable?"

"Very. Thank you."

Finally he looked at me directly, and I was surprised to see something that resembled hope in his expression. "Does that mean that you will work with me on this project?" he asked softly.

"I have one more question, but it's personal. You don't have to answer it," I stated nervously.

"You want to know why I canceled with Lauren?" His voice was barely above a whisper.

I nodded, unable to speak as I took in the strange combination of expressions flitting across his face: coldness, anger, vulnerability, hope, regret.

"Your opinion of me matters far more than I thought it would," he admitted, avoiding my eyes again. "I couldn't go out with Lauren—and do what she expected would follow—because I knew that you would despise me even more than you already do. And I—I would despise myself, too. In addition, I want to pursue a career in teaching at the university level, and having a mark against me for dating a student would destroy my chances of being employed by a prestigious university after I complete my Ph.D. here. I talked to Dr. Whitman after meeting with you on Friday afternoon, and he told me about how high our chances of publication will be if we submitted a project for the conference. While he was extremely encouraging, he also informed me that my attitude toward my students needed to change if I want to be taken seriously in academic circles. Apparently, Henry has great hopes for my future; there's even a possibility of gaining a tenure-track position here after I graduate if I turn things around."

He sighed. "But I had canceled my date with Lauren even before I met with Henry. My decision wasn't merely based on university policy and my academic career; it was about self-respect, the respect of my department…and your respect."

Flabbergasted, I whispered, "Why does what I think mean anything to you?"

Still not looking at me, he replied, "I don't know. But it does…very much."

Nervously, I replied, "I'm willing to work with you, James, but I want it understood that I'm not looking for someone to date, and if I work on this project with you, obviously dating you would be off the table." I looked up at him, and he was gazing at me with an odd softness in his expression. "But if you are looking for a friend and co-worker, I'm in."

"Thank you." Relief filled his features for a moment before his new serious demeanor took over. "Aren't you going to be late for Peter's class?"

"Yikes," I jumped to my feet, checking my watch. "If I run for it, I can just make it."

He stood up as well. "You have my e-mail address on the class syllabus. Please e-mail me tonight, and we can exchange contact information. I have some preliminary work to do before we can begin, so we'll start the project next Monday."

"Great!" I jogged toward the door. "Talk to you soon!" With a wave over my shoulder, I took off running across campus to the Philosophy/World Religions department, feeling both satisfied and a little confused by James' words and actions today.

I could only hope that the "new-and-improved James" wasn't just a mirage—there one moment but disappearing the closer one gets.

_**I hope that you all enjoyed this chapter. It's loooong, over 6300 words, so I hope you will find it worth the two-week interval between chapters. **_

_**With starting homeschooling and preparing my new online and IRL classes, I wasn't able to respond to many reviews, and I'm sorry about that. And with my new crazy fall schedule, I can't guarantee that I'll be able to respond to reviews; all my free time is devoted to writing and revising the next chapter for you all. **_

_**Thanks for reading—and I hope—reviewing; your comments encourage me to keep on writing! I read, save, and treasure each one. **_

_**See you in two weeks, my friends!**_

_**3,**_

_**Cassandra :)**_

_**xxxooo **_


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